


Meet Me on the Rink

by Katiemonz, theashemarie



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roller Derby, Art by Katiemonz, F/F, Finding Oneself, First Kiss, First Meetings, Found Family Dynamics, Girls on roller skates..., Little bit of angst, Pearlina Week, background agent 24, cursing, soul searching
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2020-05-31 14:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 51,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19427734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katiemonz/pseuds/Katiemonz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theashemarie/pseuds/theashemarie
Summary: "I like to go fast, Marina told her last week, and Pearl sees it now. The long profile of her body as she moves the quad skates, gliding as fast as she can around all the people, in tempo with Wet Floor’s Don’t Slip. She’s built for it, all those long lines, those muscled legs, the pumping of her arms. It’s intoxicating to watch her, especially for someone like Pearl, who loves these skates and this rink like she loves her home. Someone like Marina is exactly who she needs."A story of self-discovery, soul searching, and falling in love. Also, they skate sometimes.[Roller Derby AU. A belated offering for Pearlina Week.]





	1. don't slip

**Author's Note:**

> I found out about Pearlina Week way too late to really participate, but about 24 hours ago I said to my girlfriend Katie, do you want to collab on something for the last day? And she said yes! So here we are.
> 
> We decided to pick one of the prompts and just go all in on it. In the end, you know ya girls are gonna go for the AU. I said "roller derby AU." She said "YES!" Here we are. 
> 
> Concept by both of us. Written by me ([theashemarie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theashemarie)). Art and punny nicknames by [Katiemonz](https://katiemonz.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> My sincerest apologies to anyone who knows anything about roller derby. I only had a few hours to do research and I ended up simplifying some things just to make it easier on readers who might not know what's going on. Please cut me some slack!
> 
>  _EDIT:_ The beginning of this story is confusing if you don't know the rules of roller derby, but don't worry! It gets explained in the second section! The confusion is kinda intentional because it's a chaotic sport, but if you're not getting it, feel free to scroll to the second section, read the rules, and then scroll back up!

The rink is almost full, which isn’t surprising. Fresh2Death is a popular team, even if Pearl’s barely heard of the other team, so people will show up in droves regardless of the actual match. From her vantage point in the stands, she can see Marie’s head, her gray-white hair pulled back and barely visible from under her backwards cap, and she easily recognizes the relaxed angle of her shoulders. The match is going well for her team. They’re in the second period and they’re up quite a few points— _and,_ most importantly, her jammer currently has the lead, which means that she can end the jam if their point advantage looks to be in danger.

The jam is over a minute in so Pearl imagines that it won’t last longer, but she’s still on the edge of her seat. Fresh2Death’s current jammer—Loch Mess Monster (Four to her friends)—is small and fast, just like Pearl, and she’s good at finding openings in the pack, especially when her team is setting up for whips and walls. Pearl’s raced her a few times and they’re pretty evenly matched on the open track, though Pearl is better at leaping around the curves. Still, Four is good, so when she takes a hard hit to the side and is knocked out of bounds, Pearl feels her legs twinge a little when she lands on her knees. She can hear the smack of her kneepads all the way up here.

Four gets up easily and is forced, as according to the rules, to reenter the pack behind the person who knocked her out. Just barely, Pearl sees her glance at Marie, who is shaking her head. _Keep going_ , she’s saying. _We can score more points_.

Because she was the first jammer to break through the pack at the beginning of the jam, Four has control over when to end the jam before the two minute limit is reached. The safe move there would have been to just end the jam, because the knockout put her back quite a few feet. However, her teammates, the blockers, are doing a great job stopping the other jammer from passing them and scoring. Plus, Marie is known for her risky moves, even on a runaway game like this one. She’s a legend in Inkopolis’s derby scene for a reason.

Four gets back on the track and is immediately accosted by the skater who knocked her out of bounds. Luckily for Four, a vertical grate is right in front of them, scattering the pack as everyone either sails through it in squid form or attempts to swerve around it. Just beyond, there’s a patch of green ink—Four’s team’s color—and Pearl sees her eyes land on it. If she can get herself into it, she can free herself of some of the blocker pressure and get some speed.

But the other team’s blockers see it too. And Four’s blockers see them. The other jammer is somewhere in the pack, closed on by Fresh2Death’s blockers and stuck behind a wall of two skaters. The other two blockers move to play defense, attempting to keep the other team from walling Four off.

Pearl feels her leg start to bounce. Four jukes toward the left, heading toward the inside of the curve, but then swings to the right. She passes one of the other team’s blockers, gaining a point, and then is blocked off by two more. The skates are loud on the floor as they shove at her, trying to knock her out of bounds, but she lowers her center and sails right into them. They throw their arms out, blocking her pass, and she jukes again, this time using the curve of the floor to head left again. Two of her own blockers meet her and they whip her forward, right into the ink.

She slides in and disappears, nothing more than a small ripple. Two of her blockers follow, flanking on either side, and when she hops out, she’s passed all four of the other team’s blockers. Marie waves her arms and whistles, a sharp, high pitched sound that Pearl knows well, and Four jabs her hands onto her hips multiple times, signaling the end of the jam.

“A grand slam,” the girl sitting beside Pearl says. She’s one of Pearl’s teammates, a blocker that keeps Pearl safe while she’s running jammer. Their team, Creatures of the Smack Lagoon, is Fresh2Death’s rival, and both Pearl and her companion are here to scope out the competition. Three (“Kraken Skullz” during a match) is one of Pearl’s closest friends on the team, and one of the most skilled blockers Pearl’s ever had the pleasure of playing with. She trusts Three more than she trusts herself sometimes.

“All thanks to Eight.” Pearl indicates one of Fresh2Death’s blockers, a tall, dark-skinned girl with the strangest hair Pearl’s ever seen. She’s one of Fresh2Death’s strongest skaters, and she’s currently looking up into the stands, probably trying to spy Three.

Eight (“Agent 8”—a joke Pearl isn’t sure she gets but which brings Three intense glee) and Three are close. Closer than they should be, considering they’re on rival teams. But, the captains don’t know and Pearl isn’t going to tattle. _No fraternization_ is the rule, but Three laughs in the face of most rules. Eight, who is quiet and seems to have a wicked intelligence behind those eyes, doesn’t seem to care either, but Pearl has trouble reading her sometimes. Still, they seem happy, so Pearl isn’t going to say anything.

Three waves down at her, trying to get her attention. “Yeah, I saw. That was a sick whip. She grabbed Four’s hand and threw her so fast toward that ink. It’s like she’s got super strength or something.”

Pearl grimaces, because she gets that. Eight is notorious for her whips, specifically because of that strength of hers. Sometimes, Pearl doesn’t think it should be legal, but other times she sees plays like that and she doesn’t care.

“Looks like she’s off the next jam. I’m gonna go see her,” Three says as she stands. Eight is tugging her helmet off and slapping another blocker in so Marie must feel pretty confident in their lead now.

Pearl nods and watches Three go. Her long hair sways as she bounces down the stairs and Pearl sees her lean over the railing to give Eight a hug.

Alone now, Pearl checks her phone. No new messages from Callie. The last one is seared into her memory— _find the new girl._ She groans and stuffs her phone back into her pocket. Easier said than done, apparently.

“This seat taken?” A new, unfamiliar voice asks, and Pearl looks up. The only thought she has is _tall_ before her brain gives up entirely. Because she _is_ tall, but she’s also beautiful, and smiling, and has long, strange hair just like Eight’s which is also somehow nothing like Eight’s. And _yeah_ , she’s talking to _Pearl_. She’s smiling at _Pearl._ Pearl in her dark, desperately-needs-a-wash hoodie and her baggy eyes and her bruised knees.

“Sorry,” the woman continues, and her voice has a musical quality to it, all lilting and enchanting. Of course it does. “This place is packed, and I saw your friend leave. I hope it’s okay...”

“Uhhh,” Pearl begins, suddenly losing control of her tongue. She shakes her head to snap herself out of it. “I mean! Yes! Fuck, yeah, it’s open. Please.”

“Oh good. Thank you.” She sits primly next to Pearl and tugs impulsively on her jacket. She’s wearing tight, ripped jeans, a bandanna around her head, and a leather jacket over a soft, green shirt. She’s also got boots that Pearl really admires.

“Marina,” she continues, holding out a hand for a shake. It’s so formal that Pearl almost has to do a doubletake.

“Pearl,” Pearl answers, limply grabbing her hand. Marina’s hand is calloused like a Turf War regular’s, but her shake is strong and Pearl forces herself to tighten her grip. Competitive to a fault, she’s not going to let anyone one-up her.

Even if she is undeniably gob smacked.

“You ever been to a roller derby before?” Pearl hears herself ask.

Marina laughs, a high chiming sound, throws her head back with it, exposing the long expanse of her neck. Pearl feels her stomach bottom out. It’s such a strange feeling; she usually isn’t this desperate or pathetic.

“A few,” Marina answers, covering her hand with her mouth to hide her smile. “You?”

“Me? Oh, a few. Yeah.” Pearl looks back to the track, wishing that they’d just get on with it so she’d have something to focus on other than how hot she feels under her hoodie. Carefully, she shrugs out of it, so she only has her tank top between her and the world.

“Excellent,” Marina says. She leans forward on her knees. “It’s always nice to sit next to someone who knows what’s going on.”

Pearl swallows and decides that she very much doesn’t know what’s going on. Not really.

+++

Roller derby has been an underground sport for a while. Adapted from human roller derby, it never really reached the same notoriety as Turf War or Tower Control or Rainmaker or Splatzones, mostly because it didn’t require much ink. The rules were left mostly unchanged from the human sport, though a few obstacles were added to make the game more interesting, both in an attempt to draw more fans and to challenge the players, who had no problem jostling and skating around in circles for two minutes.

Grates were added to break up the packs and add a little variety and forethought. It wasn’t just skating in circles anymore. Now the skaters had to look further ahead and plan their moves well in advance. Jammers could escape walls in a grated section of the track, blockers could get in front of jammers, and pivots could maneuver into a better position. The skaters could either squid through the grates, losing a little momentum, or go around, breaking up the pack. (Personally, Pearl thought anyone who went around was a chump. She preferred to flip through the grates, maintaining as much speed as she could by pushing off with her skates into a forward roll, sliding into squid form, rolling through the grate, and then landing on her feet, losing only a little of her speed in the process. It was an advanced move, patented by Pearl “The Pearlverizer” herself, but she still thought the best strategy was to just take the momentum hit if it meant remaining in the pack.)

Ink was added to increase strategy. Before each period, the captains were given a precise amount of ink to lay on the track. The amount was the same for both teams and the captains could use it both defensively and offensively, either giving their team long stretches of breathing room where they could gain speed or providing a roadblock for the other team. Jammers usually always go for their ink, because it enables them to score easy points, so enemy blockers often have to cut them off before they can get to it, often by herding them away from it. Other times, the captain may put a long line of ink on the track perpendicular to their movement, forcing the enemy team to cross paths with it. They either have to jump over it or risk losing momentum or even getting stuck.

Otherwise, the rules were the same. Each team fielded a jammer and four blockers. The jammer was supposed to lap the other team’s blockers to gain points. The first jammer to break through the pack at the beginning of each two-minute jam was named the head jammer and could then control when the jam ended (before the two-minute time period was up). The blockers attempted to both block the other team’s jammer and to assist their own jammer in scoring points. The pack was a dangerous place full of shoving.

Needless to say, Pearl loves it.

She once had dreams of making it on the Rainmaker scene, but then her teenaged rebellion kicked in and she decided she needed to do something more dangerous and unorthadox to get her father to pay attention to her. Growing up rich and largely isolated on a massive estate had done some things to her sense of the world, so when she stumbled onto roller derby, with its team play not unlike what she was used in Rainmaker (except now with physical violence!) she was smitten. She joined a small team and quickly found her place as jammer. Small and fast was the name of the game, and Pearl was one of the smallest and fastest.

Derby became her home, even as she moved from team to team. Eventually, she ended up on a team with Three. Then they ended up on Tsunami Calamari, headed by Callie and Marie. Now she’s on Creatures of the Smack Lagoon because Callie and Marie can’t get along when it comes to derby. And she still loves it. She _adores_ it, and not for the same reasons her teenaged self did.

Things are good. She has a family. She has a passion. She has a place.

And now, apparently, she has a crush.

+++

Fresh2Death wins the match, unsurprisingly. Marie puts Eight back in after they lose a few points and Four is traded out for a few jams so she can rest, but it’s still a blowout. Three never returns to reclaim her seat, most likely because she can see Pearl’s flushed, panicked expression from her new spot near the front. She even sends Pearl a thumbs up, the cheeky little shit, and mouths something that looks like “she’s gorgeous!!!” with a huge smile. Sometimes, Pearl regrets letting her friends know just how gay she is, because then she ends up in situations like this: in public, suffering from a panic because a cute girl is talking to her with no help coming her way. Some wingman.

Most surprisingly though, Pearl manages to get herself under control after a couple jams. Marina is clearly more interested in the match than in her, if the way she’s leaned forward onto her knees with her hands over her mouth is anything to go on. Her eyes are trained on pack, especially on Four as she’s put back on the field, and she hoots and hollers with the crowd when the blockers get rough or a jammer breaks through. At one point, she even springs to her feet to yell at Four to _push it_ , and when Four shoves her way through, gaining three more points, Marina cups her hands around her mouth and hollers so loud that Pearl feels her hearts stop, simultaneously, for a second.

Between jams they talk, mostly about the match, but sometimes about the weather. Pearl hangs on every word but tries to make herself seem aloof and calm, answers with a smoothness that she definitely isn’t feeling, and she can tell that Marina is interested in her, especially when she smiles her most wicked, killer smile—the one she reserves for moments like these, when she’s trying to impress someone with the sheer force of her suave persona. She’s realized that most people are drawn to someone who seems comfortable in their own skin, and Marina seems to be no exception.

“How long you been into derby anyway?” Pearl asks after Four calls the end to another jam. She’s been the lead jammer far too many times this period, which is making the match kinda stale, in Pearl’s opinion. She likes them best when it’s an equal fight—more interesting that way.

Marina, who had been standing and bouncing slightly as Four hopped the corners and was whipped forward by Eight again, plops down next to Pearl. Her jacket, long discarded during the heat of a jam, is pooled on her seat but she doesn’t seem to mind as she sits on it. “A little bit.” Marina’s face is flushed with excitement, tinted the same neon green as Fresh2Death’s outfits and ink, and her hair is wild, moving as if it has a mind of its own. It bounces with each head movement and even brushes into Pearl’s bare shoulder a few times, igniting a few sharp nerve endings under her skin. She has to stop herself from shivering every time.

“You really like Fresh2Death, huh?” Pearl indicates Marina’s hair, its color, and her shirt.

Marina shrugs and looks down at her hands, suddenly pensive. “I’m new in town and they’re the first team I stumbled on. Plus, they’re one of the best.”

Pearl can’t argue with that. Both Fresh2Death and her own team are top ranked, always winning their matches, but she’s also a little biased. “What about Creatures of the Smack Lagoon?” She tries to sound nonchalant and not like Marina’s answer has the possibility to destroy part of her. After all, her team is her family, but, for some reason, Pearl finds herself very invested in Marina’s opinions.

“They’re good,” Marina answers, causing Pearl to relax a little. “They play a little dirty, but I admire that. Their main jammer is a sick skater. She’s _so fast_.”

Pearl looks up at her then, suddenly terrified that Marina is playing with her. She _has_ to know, right? This can’t be a coincidence...

But Marina’s face is so earnest, without a hint of deceit, and Pearl has no choice but to believe that she really just doesn’t know what Smack Lagoon’s main jammer looks like. It’s possible, considering the helmets and the face paint and the speed.

(And the fact that Pearl tries very hard to keep people from figuring out who she really is. She’s not the rebellious teenager anymore and she understands what kind of press _Hime Houzuki: Roller Derby Princess_ would get. She has a deal with her father that she keep a low profile—as low a profile as she can manage while playing on one of the top teams—and in return he lets her do what she wants without comment. He even helps fund the league, albeit under a false name. Really, it’s amazing what a difference a change of hair and clothing will do to keep you hidden. When she’s doing things on behalf of her father, she’s all soft edges, soft expressions, longer hair, and poofy dresses. But in the derby scene she’s all teeth, sharp edges, ripped fishnets, studded bracelets, short, bobbed hair, and snarls. No one _ever_ recognizes the soft, humanitarian princess from the news.)

“Yeah,” Pearl answers, trying not to sound too proud. “She’s fuckin’ stellar. She’s one of my favorites.”

Marina smiles then and nods. “I’ve only been to one of their matches, but I plan on going to more. Would you like to join me?”

Pearl has a flash of panic, because she can’t very well agree to that. But she so desperately wants to say yes. But she can’t. Oh fuck, what will she say?

“Oh wait...” Marina cuts in, as if reading Pearl’s mind. Is her facial expression that obvious? “Creatures of the Smack Lagoon doesn’t have a match for two weeks.” Pearl breathes out softly, because she forgot about that. Callie is out of town and they can’t very well have a match without her.

“The Fishnets are up against Fresh2Death next weekend,” Marina continues. “Wanna meet up then? It’s nice to have a friend who’s into these things.”

Pearl doesn’t want to sound too eager, but she also is _so_ eager, so she says “Yes!” way too quickly. It makes Marina laugh and she smiles again, a warm thing that makes Pearl _ache_ inside.

+++

A few days later, Pearl and Three are skating around The Lagoon, the skating rink nearest Inkopolis Square. (There are at least three in downtown.) There are two rinks in this building, one banked and one flat, and Pearl and Three have made a tradition of a weekly Wednesday meetup, where they race each other around the banked track and then take to the flat one, Wet Floor blasting over the speakers, lights flashing in disco patterns. They skate together, talking and practicing jumps, spray ink on the rink and see how much speed they can gain in the smallest splotch possible. It’s an excuse to goof off and let off steam, Pearl from her double life and Three from whatever it is she does during the week. Pearl really has no idea what she gets up to and knows better than to ask at this point.

The truth is that this rink belongs to Pearl. Her father built it as a birthday present a few years ago and it’s what Creatures of the Smack Lagoon calls home. It’s also what Pearl calls home, especially on the weekends, when she’s free of any sort of responsibility. If she could, she would spend all of her time in here, skating in circles, screaming her lungs out along to every song that she knows. She feels her freest when she’s on skates or when she’s singing, so when she’s doing _both_ she’s pretty sure she could fly.

“So,” Three says as she and Pearl skate together on the flat rink. Their rhythm matches the song and their feet move in synchronized movement, only falling out of sync when they come to a corner and Three has to lengthen her stride to get around at the same speed. “Did you see Fresh2Death’s new blocker? I never found her.”

Pearl sighs, because she forgot all about the whole point of being at the match. Rumor had it that Fresh2Death had a new blocker, one who was supposed to change up the whole team dynamic, and Three and Pearl were supposed to get a look at her, see how she played. Callie was adamant that they find out about her _before_ the annual Fresh2Death/Creatures of the Smack Lagoon rematch next month, so they could adequately prepare. But it seemed like Marie was hiding her away for now.

Callie and Marie were cousins, everyone knew that, and they got along most of the time. But, when it came to derby, they couldn’t stand each other. Too many different opinions on how a jam should be played, how a team should be organized, how strategies should work. Most of the time, they were best friends, hanging out together during the week without problem, but when the weekend came and matches took over their lives, they were like acid toward each other. It was incredible to see, truthfully, but Pearl understood it. She led a double life too, albeit a completely different kind of double life, but she understood how it worked.

“Why don’t you ask Eight?” Pearl says eventually as they round another corner. The rink is empty, as it always is on Wednesdays, so she feels pretty safe talking about Three’s compromising relationship.

Three shakes her head and flips so that she’s skating backwards. Her expression is serious. “She would never tell me. You know how it is. When it comes to derby, we’re enemies.”

That’s true and Pearl knows that it hurts Three a little. She loves Eight with her whole being and it’s hard for her to turn it off when they’re facing off on the track. Eight, meanwhile, is way better at compartmentalizing her life, though Pearl has noticed that she tends to lighten up on her blocks when it comes to Three. She never really shoves Three too hard.

“Well, I guess Marie’s hiding her away until the big match. Guess we’ll just have to think on our feet.”

Three nods and flips back around so she can match Pearl’s stride again. It’s pretty uncommon for them to just skate in circles like this, all told. Usually, they skate erratically around the rink, dancing to the music, flipping from one foot to the other, jumping, skating on one foot, just generally showing off to each other. But, today, something is different. Pearl begins to feel a little antsy as they complete their third circuit.

“So,” Three begins again. “Who _was_ that at the match anyway? She seemed into you.”

There it is. Pearl bites her lip and focuses on her feet for a second. She’s not sure how much she wants to say. She trusts Three like a sister but this whole thing with Marina feels precious in its newness. Does she want to tarnish that with idle chatter?

Oh, who is she kidding. Of course, she wants to talk about it. “She’s just a girl,” she says, trying to sound nonchalant and not like she was completely blown away. “She’s new to Inkopolis and she’s really into Fresh2Death.”

Three winces and cuts across Pearl’s path so she can skate in the middle of the rink while Pearl continues her circuits. The playlist Pearl loaded up is almost over, only a few quiet songs left, so they can easily hear each other from across the rink. “Ouch man. That’s rough. Too bad she’s not into Smack Lagoon. Then you’d actually have a chance.”

Pearl can’t help but laugh at the gentle teasing. “Hey!” she calls, indignant, and she cuts her loop short so she can speed toward the middle, where Three is rolling around on one foot, clearly taunting her. “You bet your ass I have a chance! She asked to meet up next weekend!”

Three puts her foot down and pushes off toward Pearl. They circle each other, in a sort of familiar stare off. “Wow, I’m impressed. When I saw her sit down next to you, I was _sure_ you were gonna piss yourself. Congrats on holding it together.”

Pearl takes a light swing at her head but Three easily dodges by bending over backwards. “You’re the fuckin’ worst. Why do I hang out with you?”

Three grins a toothy grin and heads toward one of the entrances to the rink. Easily, she hops up onto the carpeted half-wall. “Because I keep your ass safe on the track!” she calls, and she begins to unlace her skates.

She has a point, but that doesn’t mean Pearl has to say so. She skates up to her and allows herself to slam into the wall with a loud _bang_ , like a child skating for the first time. Three drops a skate to the ground and tugs at the laces on the other.

“You gonna go?” she asks. “Because I think you should. Fishnets versus Fresh2Death right?”

Pearl leans back on the wall, stretching her back and getting some of the pressure off her aching knees. Skating is fun, but it puts a lot of stress on her legs. “Yeah, and of fucking _course_ I’m going. You think I’m gonna pass this up?”

Three shrugs and the other skate lands next to its twin. Three hops down and stretches down, a cooldown exercise to help the muscles in her legs. Her socked feet slide a little on the slick rink floor. “It’s hard to tell with you. Sometimes you flip and run away. Sometimes, good girl Hime gets in Pearl’s way.”

“I do _not_ —”

Three grabs up her skates in one hand and waves over her shoulder. “Whatever you say. Just don’t screw this one up. She likes you. I can tell.”

Pearl watches as she slides into her clogs and leaves. Then, she looks down at her own skates, pink and scuffed, the same pair she’s had for years. With a sigh, she hops onto the wall and picks at the laces. When she lands back on solid ground, everything feels too heavy and slow.

Desperately, she wishes she could live on those skates.

+++

That Saturday, Pearl finds herself a seat in around the same spot as last week, and she waits. The Fishnets are a better team than last week, but word on the street is that Four was injured in practice the day before. Usually, that kind of thing would barely phase her, as a quick ink bath would heal her right up, but a pulled muscle is another matter. Those sometimes don’t heal right away.

Still, Pearl spies Four’s familiar helmet as the team skates in. She has the star, so she’s still going to be the jammer, at least here at the beginning, which makes Pearl worry a bit. She doesn’t want Marie to push Four too hard before the big match. She wants a fair fight.

Fresh2Death and Smack Lagoon don’t face each other often, just once a year, in a giant celebration of the sport and to ring in the summer. It’s usually a packed house and all proceeds go to charity, but it’s always a tight, heated match. The past two years have seen two giant upsets, wherein Three was almost splatted against a grate the first year and taken out of the match (Smack Lagoon lost that year) and where, the next year, Pearl managed her first grate flip, kept her momentum, and managed to grand slam (pass all four enemy blockers and score all four points) in the last jam, which gave them the win last year. This year though, it’s anyone’s game, and it all comes down to that mystery blocker that Marie’s hiding.

Pearl watches all of Fresh2Death skate in and doesn’t see the blocker. She didn’t think she would, to be honest. If Marie is keeping her hidden, then she’s not going to put her in in small potatoes match like this one. Besides, she probably knows Pearl is here.

Pearl sits back and waits. She’s dressed in nicer clothes today, because she likes to believe this is at least a little like a date—dark-washed jeans that fit like a second skin and a flowy, pink crop top. A gray leather jacket is tied around her waist and she’s wearing her favorite pair of boots. They’re heavy like skates and make her a few inches taller, and she sincerely believes that they bring her luck.

Fishnets has a solid lineup, so they hold out pretty well in the first period. (It also helps that Four is a little shaky and has to be traded out after every jam she plays.) Fresh2Death is only ahead by a few points, which keeps Pearl on her toes. Still, between every jam, she glances around, trying to spot Marina, but she’s nowhere to be found. It’s pretty disheartening, and when the first thirty-minute period is over, and they send in a Squee-G to clean up the ink so that the captains can change the layout if they so wish, she can feel her stomach tying itself in knots. (The Squee-G is a new addition and there’s rumor that they stole the plans from the Octarians. Pearl isn’t sure if she believes that though.)

When the second period begins, Pearl decides that she’s had enough waiting. If she’s going to be stood up, she’s not going to just sit here and take it. She could be at home right now, stuffing her face with ice cream, or at The Lagoon skating in circles with screamo music pounding against her head.

She stands to leave and makes it halfway down the stairs when she hears a voice calling after her. She doesn’t want to believe it, but when she turns she sees Marina, standing where she was just sitting. Marina waves her over, her long arm easily identifiable over the crowd and Pearl tries to keep herself from smiling too big. She takes the steps back up slowly, not as the pouncing, two-at-a-time pace that her body desperately wants.

“Sorry I’m late,” Marina says, playing with the end of one of her tentacles. She’s dressed similarly to last time, with those jeans and the green shirt, except this time she has a forest green flannel tied around her waist. “I was a little nervous...” She chuckles unsteadily and Pearl is shocked at her honesty.

Carefully, Pearl puts herself back in her seat, right next to Marina, and decides that she might as well tell the truth too. “It’s okay. Glad I’m not the only one.”

Marina smiles then, at ease. “So, what’d I miss?”

Pearl launches right into a quick play-by-play, watching Marina’s face as she intently listens.

+++

After the match, Pearl walks Marina through the parking lot. There aren’t that many cars because almost everyone takes public transportation so it’s pretty deserted. Still, Pearl will feel better if she sees Marina off, especially because she can see her own car with its familiar driver idling nearby. She’s not sure if she’s ready to explain _that_ to Marina quite yet.

Marina walks right up to a motorcycle, parked illegally on the sidewalk. “I was in a hurry,” she says sheepishly as she pats the seat. “I was scared you’d be gone by the time I got here. And I was almost right!”

Pearl almost feels bad for that, but what else was she gonna do? She’s been stood up one too many times.

“Well, I’m glad I stuck around as long as I did,” Pearl says instead of all that. “Didn’t know you had a bike.”

Marina tugs the helmet on and flips the visor up so Pearl can still see her eyes. “Yeah, I like to go fast.”

Pearl can relate to that big time. “Yeah? So do I.”

“You want in?” Marina opens up the storage compartment and produces another helmet, this one almost exactly like the ones that the skaters wear on the track. “I promise to drive carefully.”

Pearl glances toward her car, at her driver who’s watching her with the low lights on. She _so_ wants to hop on that bike, but she’s not sure where the night will take her, or where she’ll end up. And she has a brunch tomorrow with some of her dad’s associates’ kids. Hime getting in the way. Just like Three predicted.

She sighs and pushes the helmet away. “Nope, sorry. I have to be responsible tomorrow. You know how it is. Besides,” she grins then, trying to be coy, “we just met.”

Marina doesn’t seem that hurt by her refusal, which is a good sign. She drops the helmet back into its spot and closes the storage. “That’s cool. Same time next week?”

Pearl nods. “Of course. Don’t be late!”

Marina laughs and swings her leg over the bike. She turns it on and speaks a little louder to be heard over the engine. “I won’t! See you next week, Pearl!”

She speeds off, hopping the curb and swinging out into traffic with barely a turn signal. Pearl, feeling windswept and a little warm, watches her for a few seconds before trotting to her car. When she gets into the back, she slumps into the seat and doesn’t say a word to the driver.

+++

Next Saturday finds Marina waiting in the parking lot for Pearl. Unlucky, but not the end of the world, Pearl thinks as she thanks her driver and gets out. Marina’s in overalls today, a light denim with a green tube top underneath and her leather jacket around her waist. Boots again. Pearl threw on her shortest jean shorts and her biggest, pinkest t-shirt, tied in the back to give it a little shape. Boots again. They both love boots.

“Nice ride,” Marina says as Pearl jogs up. Her eyes don’t leave the car, where the driver has expensive sunglasses over his eyes.

“It’s my dad’s.” It’s not a lie. Pearl gently touches her hand. “It’s nothing.”

Marina looks down at the touch and smiles a small smile. “Right. Just unexpected. Let’s go in.” She reaches down and squeezes Pearl’s hand between her fingers briefly, sending a sharp spike of warmth through Pearl’s whole body.

The match today is boring, in Pearl’s opinion. There’s too much of a skill mismatch so Fresh2Death has the whole thing cinched in the first period. But all is not lost because Marina leans over after the first period is called and mutters, “let’s get out of here,” right next to Pearl’s ear. Pearl shoots to her feet and leads the way.

Pearl’s car is long gone so their only option is the bike, which Pearl hoists herself onto with only a little hesitation. Marina’s second helmet is a little too big on her, and she has to keep pushing it up when it slides over her eyes.

“Where to?” Marina calls over the rev of the engine.

Carefully, Pearl wraps her arms around Marina’s middle. She can just feel one of her hearts against her arm. “You like to skate?” Pearl asks, on a whim.

“A little, yeah!” Marina laughs.

“You know where The Lagoon is?”

“Of course!” Marina kicks the kickstand back and pushes off. Pearl leans into her back, only a little terrified. “Hold on tight! I’ll have us there in no time!”

+++

Because it’s Saturday, The Lagoon is packed. Marina parks a decent distance away and they walk in side-by-side, hands barely brushing. There are teens hanging out around the entrance and they all recognize Pearl. She gives them a hard look and, somehow, they read what she means: _don’t say anything_. One even opens the glass door for them.

Inside the music is pumping. Pearl isn’t sure who’s DJing tonight, but they’re using one of her playlists so at least they have good taste. She offers to pay and sends Marina off to find a table after getting her shoe size. In reality she just walks up to the counter and the skate attendant hands her two pairs without a word. Then, she goes by concessions and orders some soda, just in case.

Marina has her boots kicked off by the time Pearl finds her and she accepts the skates without a word. They’re in pretty good shape because Pearl has standards, even for her rental skates, and Marina pulls them on easily. She begins lacing without a single moment’s hesitation and that’s exactly when Pearl begins to realize that Marina might be better at this than she thought.

Pearl scrambles to pull her skates on as Marina quickly laces up the second one and stands. She easily glides toward Pearl and turns in a short circle right in front of her.

“When you said a little...” Pearl begins as she comes to her feet. These skates aren’t the ones she’s used to, so she slides a little before she gets a feel for them.

“I was being facetious,” Marina admits with a smile. “I love to skate!”

She reaches a hand out, palm up, a clear invitation, and Pearl easily accepts it. Marina tugs, skating forward on the hard floor. Easily, they crest onto the wooden floor of the rink and watch as the crowd of people circles around the rink. The lights paint their bodies with splotches of green, purple, yellow, red, blue, and Pearl gets lost in it for a second.

“I hope you can keep up,” Marina teases.

“You kidding?” Pearl scoffs. “I was _born_ in skates.”

“Hm, we’ll see.” Marina looks down at Pearl with a gentle twinkle of mirth behind her eyes. “Short stuff.”

Pearl puffs up like an angry bird. “Hey, if we were all tall mountains like you, then no one would be!”

Marina chuckles. “I guess you’re right. Shall we?”

There’s a lull in the flow of people coming up, where a couple kids just left for pizza. Pearl easily pushes off and sails right into the gap. “Keep up with me!” she calls, and is rewarded with Marina’s frowning glare, eyebrows pulled tight as she follows quickly. She overtakes Pearly quickly and gets a little too close, bumping right into her. But, Marina’s instincts are fast and she grabs Pearl before she can fall, towing her close to her side.

Pearl feels herself flush and she quickly tries to recover. Easily, she gets her feet back under her and pulls away, but Marina refuses to let go of her hand.

They skate side-by-side like that, hands clasped, for a few rounds. Marina’s stride is longer than Pearl’s but Pearl keeps herself angled toward the center so that when they take the curves she can keep up. On the straightaways, Marina tugs her, going a bit faster, so that Pearl has to speed up or risk getting left behind. It’s not so bad though—Pearl is used to going much faster than this, with nine other people pushing and shoving her, so this is a delightful change of pace.

After the fourth or so circuit of this, Pearl feels a little braver. She lets go of Marina’s hand—which causes Marina to make a sound of discontent—and easily angles herself behind her so that she can grab onto her hips. A conga line of two, Marina picks up on what she’s doing quickly and puts on hand on top of Pearl’s for a second, just to make sure that she’s holding on. Then, she speeds up.

Pearl pushes too, sliding her feet in short busts to get as much speed as she can, but she can feel herself dragging a little, especially as Marina takes the curve wide to avoid all of the people skating on the inside. Really, they’re not supposed to be going this fast, but Pearl is the owner so no one will say anything to her. She feels her hands tighten on Marina’s sides, fingers digging into the fabric of her overalls, and, eventually, she gives up trying to skate with her. Instead, she squares her stance and allows herself to be dragged. On the corners, they drift like a drag racer, Pearl sliding wide to overcompensate for the speed, and she whoops as Marina pushes even harder.

_I like to go fast_ , Marina told her last week, and Pearl sees it now. The long profile of her body as she moves the quad skates, gliding as fast as she can around all the people, in tempo with Wet Floor’s _Don’t Slip,_ she’s built for it, all those long lines, those muscled legs, the pumping of her arms. It’s intoxicating to watch her, especially for someone like Pearl, who loves these skates and this rink like she loves her home. Someone like Marina is exactly who she needs.

Marina throws her hands up, lets out a loud yell, and coasts through the next straightaway, giving up the speed for a small moment of relief. Pearl lets out a yell of her own and the people around them echo it, everyone joining in a moment of celebration. The DJ turns the music up a little and the crowd speeds up in return. Slower people filter to the edges while everyone else begins to move their feet a little faster.

Marina takes them to the wall, where she slams into it. Pearl easily detaches herself so she doesn’t crash into Marina, and stops next to her. Together, they lean against the wall, the carpet biting into their palms, breathing heavily, and Marina begins to laugh.

It’s a free sound, one that Pearl hasn’t heard in a long time, and Pearl watches as it takes over Marina’s whole body. She shakes with it, breathless, and falls over so that she’s leaning against Pearl. Her head lands in the crook between Pearl’s neck and shoulder and she can feel Marina’s breath against her skin.

“Thank you,” Marina mutters once the laughing has passed. “I needed that.”

Pearl, her body alive with the sheer sensory overload of everything that just happened plus _Marina,_ merely leans her head so that it’s resting on top of Marina’s. “So did I.”

+++

That Wednesday, Three and Pearl don’t talk, just skate wild circles around each other in an attempt to push themselves to go faster. There’re small patches of pink ink scattered around the banked track, which they hop in and out of to gain even more speed. Pearl pushes herself hard, but then thinks briefly about Marina and nearly takes a tumble at a speed that would have definitely left her a little splat of ink on the track. That’s when she decides she’s had enough.

She skates to the wall and grabs her water bottle, which she squirts into the mouth and down her throat. When she puts it down, Three is there, sitting on the wall and kicking her heavy skate-clad feet against it.

“So, your mystery girl.”

Pearl can’t help the giant grin that crosses her face.

“Oh, you sly squid.”

+++

After that, Pearl has to set her sights on the big Fresh2Death/Creatures of the Smack Lagoon match. It’s only two weeks away, and Callie has them scheduled for matches or practice both weekends. As a result, Pearl is prepared to make some hefty excuses if Marina asks to see her. But, to her surprise, the requests never come. When Pearl texts her asking if she wants to hang out, just in case, Marina tells her that she’s busy for the next couple weeks but that she misses her.

It’s a surprise, since she never mentioned anything. But then, they’ve been on like one date. Maybe two if you count the first time they purposefully met at the match. Maybe three if you count the time before that. Pearl isn’t exactly in a position to be asking questions.

Still, she’s a little disheartened. During the week, she stays home and doesn’t talk to anyone (except on Wednesday) and on the weekends she finds her way to The Lagoon, where her team easily wins their matches. Pearl “The Pearlverizer” falls back into the jammer groove quickly, and Three “Kraken Skullz” does a great job on blocker, like always. The matches are easy as pie.

One evening during the week, when she’s sick of her own shit (she spent the day playing video games and sunning herself out by the pool, all the while moping because of how lonely she was), she texts Marina asking for coffee. Marina answers quickly. _I can’t today! But how about this time next week?_

That’s after the big match, which means that Pearl will be free as a jellyfish. _ok! u coming to the big match at the lagoon this weekend???_

Marina’s reply is fast and curt. _I’ll be there. ;)_

+++

The day of the match, Pearl opens the rink early so she can make sure everything’s ready. The staff have been briefed and she’s paying them massive overtime because today’s going to be hectic. The banked track is on the second floor and only one set of elevators is working, which means that they’ll probably have quite a few impatient people hanging around the lobby. Also, the lower, flat rink is closed, which is another thorn because it’s Saturday—their busiest day—but Pearl can’t spare the staff to run it.

Everything goes smoothly for the most part. Tickets are bought and collected, concessions goes smoothly, the stands fill steadily. No one forgets their skates. Callie paces back and forth, her long hair swinging wildly against the back of her legs. The grates are in their places. The Squee-G, on loan from another rink because Pearl hasn’t gotten around to ordering one, works perfectly. Judd appears with two splattershots and two ink tanks, already adjusted to the two colors, which Callie inspects to insure they’re equal. He sweeps away to let Marie do the same. Three’s helmet is missing but they find it in a locker.

Pearl stretches before putting on her skates. Her fishnet tights are ripped from last match, but she hasn’t bothered to buy new ones yet. Her white, cropped tank top and black athletic shorts are the same ones she’s been wearing all year and they’ve seen quite a few tumbles, but they’ve held up. Her skates too, white and pink, recently cleaned of scuffs, are familiar, the pair that she’s been using for two years, frequently repaired and cleaned.

Everything goes a bit too smoothly. It makes her suspicious. Before the match, Callie calls everyone together and gives a speech, but Pearl hears none of it. She’s too busy scanning the bit of the crowd she can see, trying to find Marina. Once Callie’s done, they all put their hands in the middle of the huddle and chant their old chant, _Smack! Smack! Smack! Lagoon!_ before throwing them up and breaking. Three pulls Pearl away, fidgeting, looking nervous, and Pearl braces because this is it. There has to be something wrong. There always is.

“I need to tell you something,” she says, but is interrupted by the announcer, booming out “ _It’s the moment we’ve all been waiting for! Welcome Fresh2Death to the rink!”_

The crowd roars and Pearl watches as the team skates out, followed closely by Marie. Marie and Callie lock eyes from across the rink and Pearl can practically feel the lightning that sparks between them.

But then, her attention is dragged away because a very familiar sight appears right behind Marie. Tall, with her wiggling hair—so much like Eight’s yet nothing like Eight’s—pulled into a high ponytail, and dressed in a green and black checkerboard skirt and black crop top. It’s—

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Pearl hisses. “It’s _Marina!_ Marina is their _new blocker_?” She rounds on Three and sees her face, not surprised like she expected, and something inside her shifts uncomfortably.

“That’s her name? It’s nice,” Three says.

“You _knew_ ,” Pearl accuses. “Why didn’t you _tell me_?”

Three holds her hands up, a gesture that proclaims innocence. “Eight told me like ten minutes ago! I didn’t know!”

“How did _Eight_ know?”

“I guess Marina talked to her! Look!” Three points across the rink, where Eight is clearly caught up in the same argument with Marina, if their body language is anything to go on. Marina turns to look at them and her hands rise to cover her mouth. It almost looks like there’s tears in her eyes. “Looks like Marina didn’t know either. Small world.”

Pearl stares across at Marina and sees her shake her head. Her hands come down and she mouths something slowly, hand stretching out toward Pearl. _Didn’t know._ Pearl deciphers. _Talk later_?

Pearl breathes out slowly, tries to calm herself. She nods once, right in Marina’s direction and it seems to calm Marina down immediately.

So, it’s just like Three and Eight then. During derby, they have to pretend not to know each other. Fine. Pearl can do that.

(At least, she thinks she can.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clearly, this thing grew well beyond my control. I wrote all 8k of this chapter today in about six hours straight (made myself sick in the process. DO NOT DO THIS), but there will be at least one more chapter. I hope to have it ready by next Sunday! (My carpal tunnel really had a fit today so I need to NOT write in a frenzy like that again.) 
> 
> (Should probably mention that my version of Three is different from how everyone else characterizes her. There.) 
> 
> Happy Pearlina Week everyone! I can't wait to read what everyone else posted! 
> 
> Find us on social media! Ashe: @theashemarie everywhere. (Twitter for writing updates; tumblr for everything else.) Katie: @katiemonz on tumblr and @katiemonztweets on twitter. 
> 
> Kudos and comments are cherished!


	2. pick me up, jump lightly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The match... And the aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Personal headcanon: Inklings and octolings can change their hair pretty quickly (at least overnight).

Luckily for Pearl, Marie doesn’t put Marina in for the whole first period. And most of the second. Pearl keeps her mind on her skates and on the match, barely looks at Marina as she skates circles around the track. Really, it might be a good thing that Marina’s there, watching her every move, because Pearl has never been so laser-focused on a match in her life. Purposefully ignoring the eyes trained on her back, on her face, as she skates low, with long strides, Pearl plays the best game she’s ever played.

Eight can’t touch her, mostly because Three is always on top of her. Pearl hears them collide multiple times as she skims past. Once, she even hears Three hiss a low _“watch it!”_ when Eight plows right into her stomach, sending her out of bounds. The next time they make impact, Pearl swears she hears Eight apologize.

Four is a whole other matter. She and Pearl stick close to each other like they’re magnetized, and they even bump into each other a few times when their blockers shove them together. Four grins up at her every time it happens, as if she’s having the best time of her life, and Pearl jokingly tells her, “Get off me. I almost have a girlfriend.” That actually makes her laugh. They’re forced apart after that by Three and Eight, who are trying to set up for whips.

Pearl doesn’t play in every jam because an hour of intense skating would wear anyone out, even her. But she does play when it counts. The score stays pretty even, with each side jostling forward into the lead every couple jams. The crowd is uncontrollable, and Pearl isn’t sure where the lines are drawn. The reaction is explosive no matter what happens on the track.

Callie and Marie even seem like they’ve managed to find some chill, at least for a bit. They grin at each other from across the rink and even nod in congratulations when the other team manages to score. Really, it seems like everyone is having a good time.

Marina slides back and forth between rooting on her own team and rooting on Pearl. When Pearl does anything cool, like slipping underneath Eight’s outstretched arms, she cheers, hops up and down, claps excitedly. When Four scores, she does the same. Her teammates look at her every time she cheers at the wrong time, but she doesn’t seem to care. At one point, Pearl sees Eight approach her and try to talk to her, probably trying to tell her to play it cool, but Marina merely shakes her head and smiles a sunny smile right in Pearl’s direction.

But then, the match is coming to an end and Marina hasn’t played. Pearl knows what’s coming when they get to the last jam and the score is close. Creatures of the Smack Lagoon is down three points. They have to manage a grand slam while also keeping Fresh2Death from scoring. The good news is that Four looks battered and exhausted. She’s taken quite a few spills—mostly thanks to Three—but Marie sends her in anyway.

The bad news is that, as they’re lining up, Pearl and Four behind the jammer line, Three and Eight staring each other down with barely veiled heat right in front of them, Marie waves Marina in. Marina only has eyes for Pearl as she skates onto the track, and she mouths “ _No hard feelings_ ,” as she takes her place.

“ _Oh, a wildcard!”_ the announcer calls. “ _Fresh2Death has finally fielded their newest player: Cherry Hyperbomb! Bold move during the last jam!”_

Pearl grimaces in Marina’s direction but doesn’t say anything back. Her legs and back are aching and she’s pretty sure she could pass out right now if given a soft enough surface, but she has to do this. She has to win this for them, like she did last year. She can manage one more grand slam. All she has to do is beat Four out of the pack so she can be lead jammer. Then she has to score.

Judd blows his whistle and Pearl and Four take off. Four falls behind quickly, most likely because she wants Pearl to be in the middle of the pack, held back by all of the blockers, so she can slide around and get the lead. But Pearl is smarter than that, she jukes to the right before heading left, right toward Three. Three grabs her hand and whips her right past Eight and another of Fresh2Death’s blockers. There’s a patch of pink ink ahead, right before a grate. All Pearl has to do is reach it.

That’s exactly when Marina appears, her long legs easily taking one stride to Pearl’s two. She gets right in front of Pearl, throws her arm out, makes it impossible for Pearl to move right. Pearl can feel herself being herded left, shoved toward out of bounds, where she’ll be forced to reenter the track behind Marina.

“’Reena, get out of my way,” she pushes out between her teeth. Pearl slows just enough and jerks right, where she has a little more breathing room. Marina shadows her, trying to stay in front of her.

“No way,” Marina trills back. “You’re stuck with me now!”

They’ve only been on one date (maybe two, maybe three), but that almost makes Pearl stumble. Almost. Instead, she jukes again and pushes herself left, ducks under Marina’s arm, and lands right in the ink. She pushes her body as hard as she can, moves her tentacles in their quickest rhythm, and swims through. All the practice with Three helps. She’s weightless as a squid—the heavy skates disappear and there’s no drag from her clothes, only her tentacles and her pointed body, sailing through the ink.

When she gets to the end of the patch, she throws herself out of it. Her skates reform, along with her limbs and her lungs, desperate for air from all this exertion, but she’s ready. She lands right on her feet and looks back to grin at Marina.

But Marina isn’t behind her. She’s _next to her_. “ _Pearlie!_ ” she sing-songs just from the right.

Pearl stumbles then but doesn’t fall. She plants her toe brake and kicks off, tries to make it look like she meant to do that. Marina laughs again.

They’re close enough to the rest of the pack that it still counts. Above the din of the crowd, Pearl can just hear the announcer, “ _Oh! And there goes Loch Mess Monster! Kraken Skullz isn’t pulling any punches today!”_

Three got Four out of the way, shoved her out of bounds, at least for now. Odds are, Three is falling back as far as she can, trying to put Four at least forty feet behind Pearl because she has to reenter the track behind her. It’s a cheap tactic, but it gives Pearl an opening. All she has to get is get around Marina.

The grate is coming up, followed by the smallest part of the curve. If Pearl can get through the grate, all she has to do is hop the curve and she’ll be free.

Marina is keeping up with her though, followed closely by Eight. Together, they jostle Pearl, trying to move her away from the inside of the track because they know she’s going to try to jump it. It’s a patented Pearlverizer move—and it’s technically legal. All you do is leap out of bounds for a second, never touch the floor, from one part of the track to the other. It’s easy.

But first, the grate. Marina is ahead of her now, so she’ll have to squid through it, which should give Pearl just enough breathing room to get away from her. Eight will fall behind because she _never_ takes the grates and _always_ goes around, so all Pearl has to do is break free of Marina.

Marina gets to the grate before her and Pearl slows a touch to see her jump through it, trying to gauge which way she’ll angle toward.

But, she doesn’t turn into a squid.

She doesn’t jump through it.

Marina jumps _over_ it.

Pearl can’t believe her eyes. Marina coils her long legs and _leaps_ , shoving her toe brakes into the floor one after the other, and sails right over the five-foot-tall grate.

Pearl doesn’t get a chance to see her land. She slams right into the grate, face first, and the last thing she sees is the bright lights of her own rink.

+++

When Pearl comes to, she realizes immediately that it’s only been a couple minutes, tops. She’s laying on one of the benches beside the track and the crowd is quiet, as if in respect for a fallen player. Three is there, hovering above her, and Eight is beside her, and there’s Marina too. She can hear arguing, just out of the range of her detailed hearing—it’s all tone, conveyed by two voices, one calm and one incredibly angry. Pearl is pretty sure it’s Callie and Marie.

“She’s awake!” Three calls and Eight puts her hand under Pearl’s head when she moves to sit up.

“Okay?” Eight asks, helping Pearl all the way up. She leaves her hands out, as if Pearl is going to pass out again. “That was quite the impact.”

Pearl forgets how weird Eight’s speech patterns can get, but it’s reassuring right now. Her overly-formal approach helps ground Pearl. If she can talk like that, then things aren’t too desperate.

“Yeah,” she says and reaches up to rub her head. Her whole face hurts and her chest is throbbing with every beat of her hearts. Carefully, she lifts her tank top and winces. There’s a light crisscross pattern decorating her skin, but luckily only a few of the wounds look deep. Most of them will fade come tomorrow. “What hit me?” she jokes, trying to make everyone calm down.

The crowd, seeing her sit, lets out a smattering of applause. Callie and Marie, who are standing in the middle of the rink with Judd between them, turn and look at her.

“See, she’s fine.” Marie’s voice is calm, with just enough bite to let everyone know that she’s pissed. “There’s no need for all this fuss.”

“Sure there is!” Callie throws her hands up and rounds on Judd, pointing a finger squarely at Marie. “Her blocker broke the rules!”

“There’s nothing in the rules that prohibits jumping the grates,” Marie forces out through her teeth.

“Well there should be! You almost killed my best jammer!”

Pearl groans. She’s been hurt before, even cracked her head open once on someone else’s skate, but it’s been a while. Her father’s going to have a fit.

“Pearl...” Marina is still there, standing awkwardly behind Eight. Hands wringing, she looks like she wants to scoop Pearl up into a hug, or at least check her over for injuries, but she’s holding herself back. “I’m sorry.”

Pearl shakes her head and moves to stand, just to prove to all of them that she’s okay. Her skates slip on the ground and she falls right back onto her ass.

“Nah uh,” Three admonishes. “Medics said you can’t skate for a few days.”

All right, so maybe she was out for a little longer than she thought, if the medics were able to check her over. Still, this whole thing is bullshit. It’s not like she was splatted. She just suffered a mild impact. She’s had worse.

“Then get ‘em off.” Pearl reaches down to undo her laces but her head twinges, sending a flurry of sparks into her vision. She groans and leans back. Eight’s hands easily catch her.

“Here, let me.” Marina pushes through and crouches, still in her skates. Her long fingers pick at Pearl’s laces, easily pulling them free of the tight knot, and she tugs one skate off in record time. Pearl feels her face flush when Marina looks up at her from under her hair, sheepish.

“You must relax,” Eight says, rubbing her fingers into the coiled muscles in Pearl’s back. “You’ve suffered head trauma.”

“Head trauma my ass.” Pearl doesn’t try to argue further, mostly because Marina pulls the other skate free and suddenly, she’s stuck in her socked feet. The sensation makes her feel like she’s fourteen years old again and being fitted for her first pair of shoes. Vulnerable. Excited. Out of her depth with all these new fingers and toes.

Except now she’s overwhelmed for a whole different reason. Marina sets her skates side-by-side and sits down right beside Pearl. She’s so close that Pearl can practically feel her skin, millimeters away, and it puts her whole, aching body on high alert.

Three, who Pearl completely forgot about, appears with Pearl’s sneakers, which she drops at her feet. “Don’t expect me to put ‘em on you,” Three says. Then, she looks at Marina. “You either. She can leave once she can get them on.”

“Yes Mom,” Pearl mutters.

“Don’t make me call your father,” Three says, dark, a clear threat.

Marina places her hand on top of Pearl’s but doesn’t close her fingers. Pearl doesn’t react, mostly because her brain is a bunch of fuzz and she can’t quite comprehend the meaning behind that. “I can take her home,” Marina offers.

“No!” Pearl and Three says at once, loud. The force of it makes Pearl’s head twinge again. “No,” Pearl continues, “I have a car.”

“Don’t you drive a motorcycle?” Three adds helpfully. “I don’t think she can handle that right now.”

Marina sighs but acquiesces quickly. She doesn’t have any idea that Pearl is a Houzuki—the _only_ Houzuki heir—and Pearl would really like to keep it that way. Hime Houzuki is nothing like the real Pearl, and she doesn’t want Marina to get her confused. Plus, she likes that Marina only sees her as the roller derby girl, like this is her whole life. She wishes this was her whole life.

Her head is starting to hurt now, finally, and she can’t really focus. There’s no way she’s getting her shoes on anytime soon. She groans again.

+++

Her father puts her under the rich equivalent of house arrest, which means that she’s only allowed to do things on-grounds, which includes tennis, basketball, bowling, laser tag... There are so many places she can hide on the estate that she doesn’t bother even trying to. Instead, she just leaves. None of the drivers are allowed to take her anywhere but she has a license and all the keys.

She spends Sunday and Monday at The Lagoon. Three texts her, but she doesn’t reply. Eight shows up, sees her skating around on Monday, and joins her. They don’t talk, but afterwards Pearl thinks that she understands a her a little better. Skating and Three—that’s her whole world, and Pearl is part of Three’s world. But, Eight also knows that sometimes people have to do what they gotta do—and that involves defying direct orders from a medical professional. Skating clears her head, medical advice be damned.

“There will be a rematch,” Eight says as she’s kicking her skates off that evening, “once you feel better.”

Pearl nods, because she knew there would be. Technically, Fresh2Death won the last one, but Marie is fair. And, she has to live with Callie and with her team, all of whom are chomping at the bit for a fair rematch. There’s no point in winning if it’s cheap.

“Wanna hang out on Wednesday?” Pearl hears herself ask as she walks Eight to the doors. “Three will be here.”

Eight grins and nods, sending her strange hair bouncing. “I would like that. We can race.”

Pearl pushes the door open and gestures her through. “Since I’m hurt, you’ll actually stand a chance.”

Eight laughs, a high chiming sound. It puts Pearl at ease. She can see why Three likes her so much.

“Should I invite Marina?” Eight asks.

Pearl swallows once. “I’ll do it.”

+++

Here’s the thing. Pearl isn’t someone who gets embarrassed easily. Between a childhood marked by isolation and etiquette training, a young adulthood marked by derby and screamo concerts, and an adulthood characterized by time split between the two—etiquette and derby—she hasn’t had time to learn to be embarrassed. She just does things and deals with the consequences as well as she can, often with a stubborn refusal to really dwell on her own screwups. Her whole life she’s been a reactionary, and she tries not to think too much because hindsight is 20/20 so there’s no point. She’s too busy racing forward.

But this whole thing with Marina has her _thinking_. That evening, she lays in the middle of her bed, staring up at her ceiling—where half of the glow-in-the-dark stars are gone and the rest don’t glow much anymore—and she can’t _stop_.

Because the truth is that she’s _embarrassed_ and she’s upset with herself for how the last jam went down. She was so preoccupied with Marina, with her long strides and her fast skating, and that _jump_ —

Marina jumped the grate and Pearl was so enthralled that she forgot herself. She forgot the match, she forgot the rink, she even forgot her skates. She slammed into the grate and knocked herself out because she was so _distracted_ by _Marina_.

She let her team down. She let herself down. The one part of her life that she has control over, and she blew it.

And now... Now she has a date with Marina tomorrow. Coffee, like they planned last week, a lifetime ago. Marina texted her fifteen minutes ago asking if they were still on and Pearl, in all her infinite dumbass wisdom, answered _yes!_ right away. Now, she’s here—lying on her bed, staring up at the ceiling and trying to think her way out of this whole scenario.

Because she likes Marina. She’s only known her for three weeks, but she can feel herself falling fast and hard. Hell, when she first laid eyes on Marina she felt that magnetism. It’s a dangerous feeling, especially when Pearl is feeling brave, that magnetism—it pulls at her and she can’t say no.

And then she ends up running face first into a grate at high speed during the most important match of the year.

She’s been letting herself down for a while now. All this pretending—pretending not to be Pearl on the weekdays, pretending not to be Hime on the weekends. Now she has to pretend not to know Marina on the rink. Or else she’ll ruin everything.

She’s getting very tired of pretending.

But she just has to make it work.

+++

Pearl wears a crown to coffee.

She’s not sure why, but she dons her favorite one, the one that makes her feel invincible, along with her ripped jeans and her nicest crop top—midriff bare, skating abs on full display. Crowns are usually reserved for when she’s playing the role of Hime—ribbon cuttings at her father’s newest homeless shelter, business meetings in her father’s stead, where she functions as a figurehead more than anything, over-the-top birthday parties in honor of her father’s associates’ children—but today she needs it. She needs to feel like she’s in control of the room, like she isn’t a grungy little brat on a second date and is, in fact, an heiress about to impress the girl of her dreams.

Or, something like that.

It feels weird to be wearing the crown without hair brushing the backs of her knees, but she gets used to it quickly. She takes public transit and ignores all the second looks and the cell phones pointed at her. She puts her hands in her pockets and slumps into the train seat, legs spread, like a proper butch, and feels more like herself than she has in years.

That helps with her whole embarrassment issue. She doesn’t have anything to hide behind, dressed like this, so she has to face everything head on. Her jeans are tight, her hair is short, and she has a crown. She is Pearl (birth name Hime) Houzuki, and she’s going to get over herself and find some kind of balance. She’s going to learn to be like Three, to be like Eight, to separate all the pieces of her life into their appropriate boxes so she can enjoy each moment to the fullest.

“Isn’t that Hime Houzuki?” she hears a woman ask her friend. She grins up at her, a shark bite of a thing, and leans forward on her knees.

“The name’s Pearl.”

+++

Marina beats her and already has a table picked out. Pearl orders something random off the menu and ends up with a chai latte, which she doesn’t touch once she sits down. She faces down Marina with her hands clasped around her cup, taking strength from its warmth. Marina grins softly at her and doesn’t say anything right away, just watches her.

It makes Pearl fidget and her leg begins to jostle the table, which just makes Marina chuckle.

“I like the crown,” Marina finally says. “It looks good on you.”

Pearl brings her cup to her lips, just to give herself a chance to think. She doesn’t drink though. “You been waiting long?”

“No, not at all. It’s nice to see you.”

“Likewise.” Pearl’s leg is bouncing at a crescendoing tempo and she forces it to slow down. “Look, about Saturday—”

Marina waves a hand. “That doesn’t matter. We were both surprised. I’m really sorry about startling you during the last jam. I feel awful.”

Pearl adjusts her crown a little and sighs. “It was my fault for not paying attention.”

Marina reaches across the table and takes one of Pearl’s hands. “It wasn’t. Honestly, when I was practicing that move, I didn’t think I’d be using it on _you_. The whole game, I considered not doing it. But then the moment came, and I just wanted to win so I did it anyway.”

Pearl looks down at their hands, at the way Marina’s fingers could fit all the way around Pearl’s small palm, and it calms her some. Her leg’s jiggling slows down. “Why didn’t you go through the grates?”

It’s a genuine question and Pearl looks up to see Marina’s face harden a little. Her mouth falls into a grim line and Pearl opens her mouth to backpedal, to take it back, but then Marina speaks before she can.

She adjusts her bandanna, pushing it back and making sure it stays over her ears. “It’s because I’m an octoling,” she says, voice as serious as her face.

That makes Pearl laugh. She snorts and leans back in her seat, careful not to pull her hand out of Marina’s. “Pssh, yeah right. Okay, don’t tell me.” Marina’s face doesn’t change, but Pearl is already plowing ahead. “Anyway, no hard feelings. And I won’t go easy on you next time either. I’m wise to your tricks now.”

Marina sighs and smiles, as if a great weight has been lifted off her shoulders. “I wouldn’t expect any less from The Pearlverizer.”

Pearl grins and flips her hand so that she can run her thumb over the back of Marina’s hand. She doesn’t answer, mostly because hearing Marina say her derby name fills her with an extravagant amount of pride.

“One thing though.” Marina pulls her hand free. Pearl tries to ignore how cold her fingers feel. “You could’ve _told_ me who you were.”

Pearl feels a spark of fear, which makes her whole body go cold. She considers lying, trying to hide it, but Marina has this look on her face that says _don’t fuck with me on this_. Pearl sighs in defeat.

“Was it the crown?” Pearl asks, trying to make light of the situation, for her own sake.

Marina’s eyes travel up and rest there for a second. “Well, that certainly helped, but no. I’m not blind. The car, the driver, you didn’t want me to take you home. Plus...” Marina fishes her phone from her pocket and offers it up. Pearl takes it and grimaces when she realizes what’s on screen.

A picture, taken last week at the grand re-opening of Camp Triggerfish for the summer, Pearl in a floor-length sundress, hair down to her thighs, her smallest crown on her head, sandals on her feet, with a gentle smile on her face, standing at the microphone and giving the same speech she gave every year. The act is good, really; Pearl barely recognizes herself. But Marina is smarter than most people.

“You caught me.” Pearl pushes the phone back. “I do it for my dad.”

“I prefer the short hair,” Marina says. Pearl blinks in surprise. She expected some kind of blow up, some kind of argument, but instead Marina is smiling down at the Hime-Pearl on her phone. “When it’s long like that it makes you look tiny.”

Pearl rolls her eyes and leans on her elbow. “Try telling my dad. He says long hair makes me look _regal_. I hate it. It’s such a pain to sleep in.”

Marina chuckles and pushes one long tentacle out of her face. “I had short hair for most of my life,” she reveals, and Pearl is momentarily distracted by her hands as they twirl the tentacle around her finger. “It’s nice to change sometimes, y’know?”

Pearl looks down at her drink. Still warm, but she doesn’t have the stomach for it. Not anymore. “You’re really not mad that I lied to you?”

Marina shrugs and leans back in her seat. She crosses one leg over the other and Pearl can just see the top of her knee. “What’s there to be mad about? Necessary secrets aren’t lying, at least to me. Sometimes, they keep you alive.”

“I wouldn’t go _that_ far...” Pearl mutters. She squints at Marina, trying to puzzle through that. So cryptic, so serious. “Just a double life,” she says eventually, when Marina reveals nothing. “No biggie.”

“We all have those, I think.” Marina takes a long suck of her drink through the straw and Pearl watches her throat move as she swallows. She shifts in her seat, trying to make herself comfortable again. “Yours is just obvious to those of us who know how to look. I admire it. You’re taking control.”

Pearl sits up a little straighter at the praise. “Well, you know how it is. Derby is my life. The rest of it is just what I _have_ to do.”

Marina nods. “I get that. A few months ago, I had to pick one: what I wanted or what I had to do. So far, it’s been working out.”

Pearl can’t imagine that. She doesn’t know what would happen if she decided to give up her public life as the heiress of the Houzuki fortune. She thinks the world might implode—or, at least, her father would.

“What’d you pick?” Pearl asks. She sits back in her seat and crosses her arms, trying to shield herself from Marina’s piercing gaze.

Marina answers easily, without a pause. “What I wanted. It was an easy choice, mostly because I realized that they were the same—what I wanted was what I needed.”

Pearl swallows thickly. If only her choices were that simple. “Well, I’m glad you made that decision. I’m glad I got to meet you.”

Marina smiles then and leans forward to grab Pearl’s hand again. “Me too. I’m glad I got to meet you, Pearl. Or is it Hime?”

She’s clearly teasing, and Pearl lets out a peel of laughter. “Pearl, if you please. Only reporters call me Hime.”

Marina squeezes her hand and doesn’t let go.

+++

Wednesday again and Pearl opens the rink with a jangle of her keys. Three is there, waiting outside the door, with her skates in one hand and a splattershot in the other. She pushes in as soon as Pearl clicks the lock open, nearly hitting Pearl with the door, and she throws her stuff on the closest bench.

“You invited Eight,” she accuses, with one finger leveled in Pearl’s direction, “and didn’t _tell me_.”

“I invited Marina too.” Pearl pushes Three’s hand away and goes toward the rental counter. There are a few orphaned skates that she needs to reunite and it’s safer back there, away from Three’s wrath.

“What is this? A double date?”

One problem: Three follows her like an angry shadow. Pearl tries to ignore her as she scoops up a skate. Size six.

“Don’t ignore me, Pearl. Or else I’ll tell Marina about the time you brought your boyfriend to a match and he—”

Pearl whips around. She holds the skate up like a weapon. “Don’t you fucking dare. I’m trying to forget about that.”

“What? The boyfriend? Or the fact that he was so threatened by you that he ran away?”

“The _heterosexuality._ I was seventeen. Let it go.”

“No way. Not when you pull shit like this. _Why_ did you _invite them_?”

“Head trauma?”

That makes Three laugh, which takes the tension out of the situation. “You have the hardest head I know. If it didn’t kill you, you’re fine. What’s going on? You know we have a rematch coming up. We can’t afford to get all buddy-buddy.”

Pearl sighs and looks back down at the skates. She easily spies the matching size six and stoops down to grab it. “I just have a lot going on, okay? I wanna spend time with my friends. And I think Marina and I are... Y’know. Gonna end up like you and Eight. At least I hope so. I’m trying my best out here to make it happen. But I don’t know if I can do like you. Pretend we don’t know each other during a derby, I mean.”

Three makes a small noise of understanding. Carefully, she bends down to pick up a skate, checks its size on the tongue, and searches for its pair. “I think it’s a little unfair. But if you like someone enough, you make it work. At least, that’s my reasoning. It’s only an hour a year anyway.”

When she says it like that, Pearl isn’t sure what she’s so worried about. But then, she’s not sure she can continue to do all this compartmentalizing. Three has more experience and it’s still hurting her—she often attends Fresh2Death’s matches to support Eight and has to hide from Marie. Otherwise it’ll get back to Callie and she’ll never hear the end of it. Pearl isn’t sure she can do all that.

“It’s more than that,” Pearl mutters. She pairs up another set of skates and shoves them onto a shelf with the others of their size. “Don’t you think it’s weird that we have to hide? I’m not saying this is some star-crossed love story but...”

Three shrugs and picks at the laces on a skate, trying to get out a double-knot. “Maybe, but you know how Callie and Marie are. They don’t want us going easy on each other.”

Pearl snorts and stretches her arms above her head. Her t-shirt is long and big, big enough to fit two Pearls inside, and it barely lifts past her knees with her stretch. “But they’re allowed to be best friends outside of derby? Doesn’t seem fair.”

“They’re cousins,” Three reasons. She kicks at a skate and sends it rolling.

Pearl shakes her head because that’s not an excuse, but there’s no use in talking about this anymore. Three idolizes Callie to a certain degree and her life is going perfectly right now. She has her girlfriend, her team, and her time with Pearl, who’s been her best friend for a while. She isn’t about to start throwing shade in any direction other than her own, even with Pearl.

But Pearl... Pearl is trying to learn how to do this. It was hard enough when she thought Marina was just a derby fan and Pearl needed to keep her other life from her. Now, Marina knows about the Hime side of her, but things still seem complicated.

“Let’s focus on the good. You two kiss yet?”

Pearl sputters and drops the skate in her hands. “What? _No_!”

“Really?” Three looks at her like she doesn’t recognize her. “Usually, you would’a been all over that by now. You getting soft on me?”

Pearl looks down at her hands, at her short nails and her soft, moisturized palms (because she has to shake a lot of hands). She shrugs in response.

“You like her that much, huh?” Three claps a hand on Pearl’s shoulder. “You’ll figure it out. C’mon, let’s finish this before Eight and Marina get here.”

+++

When Marina and Eight arrive, the skates are put away and Three is in the booth setting up the music. They take to the rink and skate circles, doing tricks and racing. There’s no tension and no hint that they’re on opposite teams. Eight and Marina seems to be close, closer than Pearl realized, and they mutter to each other in some sort of code—or is that a different language? Pearl isn’t sure. But, once, Pearl cuts Eight off around a curve and she lets out a loud sound that’s all consonants. That sends Marina into fits of laughter that double her over and Pearl and Three can only watch in bewilderment.

“Octo thing,” Three mutters to herself. Pearl shakes her head because she isn’t sure she heard right but she doesn’t have a chance to ask because Three pushes off the wall and plows right into Eight. They go down in a heap of laughter and Pearl looks away as their faces meet each other.

Marina and Pearl don’t touch the whole time, painfully aware of Three and Eight. They keep a respectable distance between them and skate viciously when it’s just the two of them, trying to outpace each other around the track. In the end, Pearl wins, but only because she jumps the corners. Marina smiles at her when she’s declared the winner by an excited Three and the sight of it helps strengthen Pearl’s resolve.

As they’re taking their skates off, a ritual that Pearl is starting to become way more aware of, Three leans into Eight’s side and lets out an exhausted laugh. “Y’know, I was kinda skeptical about this because this is mine and Pearl’s thing, but it was nice to have you here. I miss you.”

Eight chuckles low in her throat and gives Three such a tender glance that it embarrasses Pearl to see. “We see each other every day.”

“Yeah well! I still miss you!”

Marina, who is sitting across from Pearl, seems amused but uninterested in their conversation. Instead, she leans across the gap as if she has a secret. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“You really want to get me on that bike of yours, huh?” Pearl stretches her legs out, toes pointed to the sky, to release her muscles of their tension.

Marina leans on one of her hands, elbow against her knee. “Maybe. We both like speed.”

That much is true. Still, the image of Marina leaning over, focused only on Pearl, makes her face and neck go warm. She sees Marina’s eyes travel down, watching the blush, and it just makes her blush more.

“Yeah...” Pearl eventually answers. “I mean, I’d like you to take me home.”

Marina smiles and it’s so indulgent and happy that Pearl has to look away. Three and Eight are watching them now, beaming, and Pearl stands up so she can get away from all this. There’s only so much she can handle at once.

As she goes to tidy up the already tidy skate counter, she hears Eight mutter something in that language again. Marina lets out a chiming bell of laughter and Pearl decides that she is very, very much (probably) falling in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I thought this thing was gonna be two chapters... how wrong I was. Let's try four? Might be more. 
> 
> Chapter title from [here!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vhfYis6VuXY) (Also, if you follow my other running story Studio Brew, there will be no update this weekend. I had some stuff to deal with yesterday. (I streamed Salmon Run with my friends and then right after that my life blew up) and I'm not gonna update two stories on the same day so... Next Saturday hopefully. Sorry about that!) 
> 
> Thank you for your kind comments last chapter! I will be replying to those shortly. I actually had major creator burn-out after posting that chapter because I wrote so much in one day and hurt my wrists, which is why this chapter is about 2k words shorter than projected (it's still 6k so like... not short by any means). But, I'm still kicking!
> 
> Next update will (hopefully!) be Sunday July 14! See you then! 
> 
> Comments are cherished. Seriously. You don't know how much they get me through writing! <3


	3. was i what you wanted me to be?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pearl tries to find herself. 
> 
> cw for brief alcohol mention in the fourth section

Pearl’s been on Marina’s motorcycle once, but that was before the big match, back when they were simply two girls having a good time, flirting, playing around. Now, it feels very different when Marina hands her that same helmet—and Pearl recognizes it as the one that Marina wears during derby. Pearl tightens it around her chin and it still slips down, blocking her vision. Marina watches her with an amused look on her face and reaches out to adjust the helmet, pushing it back with a gentle touch of her hand.

Marina swings her leg over and holds the bike steady, looking back expectantly. Pearl pulls her over-large shirt up, ties it into a huge knot behind her back so that it doesn’t drag, and closes her fists into tight balls. She nods once, determined, and hops up.

Marina is at least a foot taller than her, so she made it look easy. For Pearl, she has to scramble a little to get all the way on, and Marina has to grab her shoulder to help her stay steady and not tip over the other side. Pearl grimaces but slides her leg over and scoots so that she’s balanced on the seat.

“You two behave!” Three calls from where she and Eight are undoing the locks on their bicycles. Eight has her skates tied together and slung over her shoulder, while Three is holding both of their helmets. They both have huge grins on their faces.

Marina chuckles and starts up the bike. “Always!”

“It’s not you I’m worried about!” Three yells back, which sends Eight into a fit of giggles.

“Oh har har,” Pearl mutters. She would yell back, but she’s far too focused on the steady vibrations of the bike under her, on Marina’s back, all the coiled muscles that definitely aren’t from derby—and are those scars? She reaches out to touch a particularly gnarly one running across Marina’s shoulder, peeking out from the edge of her tank top, but stops herself just before her fingertips can make contact.

“You ready?” Marina looks back and her eyes are all crinkled around the corners her smile is so big. “Better hold on tight.”

Pearl scoots forward as carefully as she can and wraps her arms around Marina’s middle. Her tank top is soft and her body underneath it is hard. Pearl swallows once.

Marina grabs her hands and pulls her snug against her back. “Tight,” Marina says when Pearl yelps. “Don’t want you falling off.”

Pearl’s mouth is dry so she has to cough before she can speak. “No,” she croaks.

Three laughs again, a high chiming sound, and Pearl resists the urge to hide her face in the back of Marina’s shirt. Instead, she looks back at Three and sticks her tongue out. “Let’s go,” she says when Three laughs and flips her off.

“You got it.” Marina revs once. The bike jerks under them and they’re off, sliding into traffic like its nothing. Pearl doesn’t look up until they’re halfway there, and only because she has to give directions once they leave the city.

+++

When they arrive at the estate, Pearl has to get them buzzed in. The security guard on the other side of the camera squints at them, especially at the bike, and Pearl glares right back and demands to know why it’s taking so long.

He lets them in, and the gate swings open slowly. Marina doesn’t say anything, which should have set off a few alarm bells in Pearl’s head, but she’s too focused on wrapping her arms around Marina’s waist again. Marina drives in slowly, crunching the gravel driveway under her tires, and they arrive at the front door in a few minutes.

“Here we are,” Marina says quietly.

Pearl hops off and lands with a crunch. She removes the helmet and holds it out. “Do you want to come in? We can order dinner or something.”

Marina looks up at the large house, with its large, immaculate windows and perfectly manicured lawn, at the double doors, and sighs. “Yeah,” she says, and puts the kickstand down in one smooth movement. She tugs her helmet off and follows Pearl inside.

Marina is incredibly quiet as Pearl leads her past the foyer with its art and human statues. There are pictures of Pearl everywhere, in all stages of life, in all sorts of different situations—rowing team, tennis, volleyball, singing lessons, holding a croquette mallet, and even one of her at the grand opening of The Lagoon, beaming her little face off. Marina takes these in slowly, reaches forward to straighten a frame with the tips of her fingers, and doesn’t say a word.

Pearl takes Marina right to the kitchen because she’s starting to think that it was a bad idea to invite her in. It’s one thing to hear that someone is rich and another to see it, especially to Pearl’s extreme. Still, it’s a little too late now, but Pearl has to negate some of the damage.

The kitchen is all sunlight and immaculate countertops. The cook isn’t here because it’s Wednesday and Pearl usually spends those out of the house, so they’re on their own.

“What do you want?” Pearl holds up her phone and slides a few takeout menus across the island toward Marina. Marina glances down at them and points aimlessly at one—a noodle place that delivers.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” a new voice says, and Pearl looks up just in time to see her father in the doorway. He’s dressed in his weekend clothes—relaxed slacks, polo shirt—and his glasses are pushed up onto his head, a clear sign that he’s been working in his office all day. “What are you doing here, Pearl? You’re usually not home this early.”

“Marina offered to drop me.” She gestures and her father follows her direction. His face doesn’t change from its friendly affability as he takes in Marina in her skating clothes. “Marina, this is my dad. Dad, Marina.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Houzuki.” Marina bows briefly, hands clasped in front of her, and his smile widens a little.

“Please, Marina, no need for such formality. Pearl’s friends are like family. I take it you’re a skater too?”

Marina rubs the back of her head, looking down at her feet. “It’s that obvious?”

He laughs and pulls one of the stools out from under the island so he can sit. “I’m just used to it by now. You learn to tell.”

“Dad, we’re about to order dinner. Do you want anything?” Pearl cuts in, trying to speed this interaction along. Her father is a charismatic man, but he can hover sometimes. Pearl wants to be rid of him as soon as she can, especially because she can’t imagine that being around him is helping Marina’s culture shock much.

“No, I already ate. I came down to talk to you.”

Pearl holds her hands out, a sign that she’s all ears. Just there, she sees Marina shift uncomfortably, but she can’t do much because her father speaks again.

“Next week, there’s an event that I need you to attend. Grand opening of the luxury cabins at Camp Triggerfish. No speech, but you need to cut the ribbon and give a few tours. I put the blueprints and the scripts on your bed.”

Pearl deflates a little, because she was hoping to avoid Camp Triggerfish for at least one week this summer. Too many bugs, too many children, too much canoeing and not enough ink or skating for her. “When?”

“A week from today.”

That makes Pearl stiffen. “Excuse me, _what_?”

He holds up his hands and stands, as if he’s expecting Pearl to throttle him. “This was scheduled months ago, and I have an emergency board meeting I can’t miss. It’s only a few hours. You’ll be out of there before you’re supposed to meet up with your little friends.”

“We have a _deal_ , pops.” Pearl stomps her foot petulantly, like a spoiled child, and ignores Marina’s disbelief. Her eyebrows rise and she looks at Pearl like she doesn’t recognize her. “Wednesday and the weekends are mine. I went to that stupid brunch a few weeks ago on Sunday as a favor, remember! I flirted with what’s-his-name’s son! I did that for you! And now you wanna take Wednesday from me!”

Her father lets out a large sigh. “It’s one day, Pearl. Please, be reasonable. I’ll give you—”

“No!” Pearl throws her hands up, sends her phone clattering across the island. “That’s the day we practice! I can’t miss it.”

“Well, you’re going to have to. You’re a Houzuki and you need to learn that that comes with sacrifices.”

“ _Fuck_ that!”

“That’s enough,” he thunders. “You have company. We’ll talk about this later. Order your dinner. It was nice to meet you, Marina. I hope to see you again.”

Marina looks like she’s been struck by lightning as he sweeps away. Pearl, seething, watches him go and kicks lightly at the cabinets, not hard enough to hurt but enough to cause a small sound. It helps her feel better.

It is exactly at that moment that she remembers that Marina is there. She jerks up and rushes to her side. “I’m so sorry, Marina. He knows how to get under my skin.”

Marina blinks, slow, once, twice, and the look she gives Pearl is enough. Pearl feels her stomach drop out.

Because that’s the face of someone who looks devastated.

Pearl, feeling splatted, realizes that she fucked up. Bad.

+++

They eat in relative quiet. Pearl tries to start conversations, but Marina is clearly uninterested. She eats her noodles with careful, awkward chopsticks and pushes her plate away when she’s half-done, claiming to be full. Pearl offers to help her sack up the leftovers but Marina does it herself. With a plastic bag in her hand, she says that she should probably get going.

Pearl shows her to the door and watches as Marina pulls her helmet on. “Did I do something wrong?” Pearl asks. She’s never been a fan of tension like this and she’s of the opinion that it’s better to just get it out there and talk about it instead of tiptoeing around it.

Marina looks up and sighs. She tugs her helmet off and looks down at it, at her reflection in the visor. “This is a lot,” she says to her own face.

Pearl winces. “Yeah, I figured. I’m sorry. It was too much too quickly. I shouldn’t have invited you in.”

Marina shakes her head. “No, it wasn’t all that. I was expecting the house. I know how much the Houzuki family is worth. It’s just... I feel like I don’t know you.”

She says it so plainly, so simply, as if it’s just a fact, that Pearl almost doesn’t hear her at first. Then, a synapse fires in her brain and she feels her lungs decompress, her stomach twist, her hearts freeze. “What?”

She can’t think beyond that one simple word. She can only watch Marina as she leans back against the bike with one hand on her head, as if she has a headache. Pearl can’t read her face, and she can feel pressure starting to build behind her eyes. She carefully squeezes at the fatty part of her hand between her thumb and forefinger in an attempt to keep herself from crying.

“I misspoke. I feel like you don’t know yourself,” Marina continues. She steps forward and reaches for Pearl’s hands. Pearl, numb and lost, easily lets her have them. Marina holds them up in front of them, looking down at Pearl’s unmanicured nails and her soft skin. “And I can’t know you if you don’t know you.”

Marina’s hands are callused and rough, but Pearl already knew that. She closes her fingers around Marina’s, just to have something to anchor her to earth. “Mar... I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

Marina smiles then, and she pulls Pearl close, right into her chest, into a hug that makes Pearl forget everything for half a second. Her body gives up and she collapses into it, lets herself be pulled into Marina’s body and to be held for just a moment. Then Marina mumbles into her hair, her lips just a ghost of a sensation against Pearl’s head.

“There’s two of you. Derby Pearl and Hime-Pearl. Not sure which one’s the real one. I don’t think you know either.”

Pearl doesn’t know what to say at first. She just holds herself there, tight in Marina’s arms, and gives her brain a chance to catch up. “Still don’t get it,” she ends up saying.

Marina sighs and pulls back, leaving Pearl feeling ice cold. “I want to believe that it’s Derby Pearl, but I saw Hime-Pearl in there with your dad. She’s spoiled and stomps her feet when she doesn’t get her way. She’s a brat. Derby Pearl is cool and calm and collected—does well under pressure. They don’t seem like two people who would ever get along. I don’t know which one’s the act.”

Pearl still can’t keep up. Marina is speaking quickly and Pearl is far too focused on the sinking sensation in her stomach. She can tell where this conversation is going even if she doesn’t quite understand what Marina’s saying. Which one is the real her? She wants to say that it’s Derby Pearl, but she knows that’s not quite the truth. After all, she hides her real life from all of her derby friends (except Three), and she hides her derby life from everyone else (except her dad). She’s not sure which Pearl she is either, really.

And that’s the problem. Marina thought she knew Pearl, thought she understood her, but seeing Pearl in her other life must have spooked her.

“I’m sorry Marina,” Pearl says. Because what else can she say? She doesn’t have an answer for Marina’s observation.

“No need to apologize. Just... You need to decide. You need to figure it out.”

There’s something unsaid there, something like _once you figure it out we can pick this up. Until then..._ Pearl feels a pang go through her chest. “Easy for you to say,” she mutters. “I have to pick between my family and my home.”

It’s true enough. Her father is the only family she has, but she feels most at home with her team, on the rink, with Marina, with Three. Her whole life, she’s been trained to be a Houzuki, to do what needed to be done to maintain the family’s standing and good fortune. Like her father said, this is the trade-off for such an opulent, privileged life. This is what she has to do—sacrifice her home for her family, her happiness for her role.

If it makes her unhappy, makes her bratty, makes her spoiled, then that’s part of the deal.

Marina shakes her head again. “Not so easy. I had to make my own choices, remember? Mine was between freedom and home.”

Pearl looks up at her, at the long, grim line of her mouth and her shining, hard eyes. “What’d you pick?”

Marina leans forward and places a soft, quick kiss on the top of Pearl’s head. If this was any other situation, Pearl would have swooned like a loon, but, as it was, she barely felt it.

“Freedom. I left Octo Valley so I could make a life for myself.”

Pearl barely has time to digest that. Marina pulls away, leaves Pearl alone in front of the doors, and slides her helmet back on. “Call me when you get it figured out, Pearl. I’d love to meet the real you. I bet she’s really cool.”

She swings her leg over the bike and speeds away with only one second glance back. Pearl can imagine what she looks like: shocked, broken, like a child in her overly-large shirt, staring at the one good thing in her life as it disappears.

+++

Pearl barely says a word for almost a week. At dinner with her father she picks at her food and he doesn’t bother trying to break the silence. On Saturday, Callie calls a practice, but Pearl doesn’t show, citing head pain. No one pushes her.

In the meantime, Pearl spends her time in bed, staring up at the ceiling, or sitting by the pool in her bathing suit and a large sunhat, knees pulled into her chest, staring sullenly at the water. What a waste. Neither she nor her father like to swim, so the pool is purely for show, a waste of space, a pretty void meant to make them look good with its chemically-treated, bright blue water. She wants to fill the whole thing with rocks.

Pearl tries not to think too much—because thinking is what got her into this mess in the first place. When she lays on her bed and stares up at the ceiling, her mind is empty. It’s easier that way. Otherwise, she’d have to confront some uncomfortable realities—like how she’s not sure who she is, like how when she looks in the mirror at the shapeless form of her body in its silk pajamas, she doesn’t recognize herself, like how when she brushes her teeth in the morning she feels like she can see to the back of her own head in the mirror.

On Friday, Pearl gets sick of herself and goes through her closet. She pitches all but a few of her dresses. She pitches all but a few of her ripped jeans. Her blouses and crop tops end up bumping shoulders on their hangers as she consolidates everything. No longer is her closet split between lives. Instead, she sorts by function. It helps clear her head.

She continues to not think. When her father asks probing questions, trying to figure out what’s wrong, she merely shrugs. It’s not that she doesn’t know—she’s beginning to realize that she has no idea who she wants to be—but that she doesn’t know how to articulate it. How do you explain to someone that you’re having an identity crisis? All because the girl of your dreams is amazing and calm and seems to understand you better than you understand yourself? How do you explain that you admire her for her responsibility, because you can’t go into a relationship without knowing yourself first?

How do you explain that, even though you barely know each other and come from wildly different circumstances, she probably has more in common with you than the people you grew up with?

On Sunday, Pearl texts Marina. She’s only a little tipsy on wine because her father had a business partner over for dinner, along with her adult son. Pearl, not wanting to flirt, sipped at her drink instead. The problem is that the boy couldn’t take a hint and kept trying, which meant that Pearl ended up sipping a lot.

Pearl is used to stuff like this. She’s the hottest commodity in her social circle. The richest heiress in Inkopolis, she’s the girl that all the socialites wants to snap up. She’s been propositioned by every single one of her father’s associates’ children, no matter their gender. She’s said yes only to some of the girls, a few of the nonbinaries, and one of the boys. She’s had a few unfulfilling relationships this way, but that’s because they’re all emotionally stunted, aren’t they? Wealth makes you hide parts of yourself. Still, the boys try the hardest, and she doesn’t blame them.

It wasn’t easy growing up the way she did. When she started forming her limbs and her fingers, her facial features, her ears, her humanoid body came under harsh scrutiny. As the future head of the Houzuki family, she was the most prominent child, the one who every other wealthy child had their eyes set on. Her body became something to be chased, which is one reason why she relished her scowls, her squinting eyes, and her large forehead. She actively enjoys not being the perfectly regal, perfectly styled rich girl.

And that, she realizes, is who she is. At least, that’s one thing. She’s like that both as Hime and as Pearl.

So, while the son yammers on about the time he went paragliding over the ocean and saw a bunch of “unfortunate children” pulling a Salmon Run shift, Pearl taps away at her phone.

 _figgured smthn out, mar._ She’s actually pretty impressed with her own spelling, considering that even when she’s not tipsy she’s often not the most diligent when it comes to grammar. That should amaze Marina, for sure.

Marina actually replies pretty quickly, so for all her ultimatums she’s still game to talk. That gives Pearl strength. _Yeah? What is it?_

_i rlyyyyyyyy like not looking like a rich girl._

A long pause, and Pearl is afraid that she said something wrong. Next to her, the son is trying to get her attention. “Have you ever been paragliding, Hime? Would you like me to take you? It’s quite beautiful and—”

Pearl pushes lightly against his shoulder, a clear sign that she’s not interested. That doesn’t faze him. “The ocean is huge, and sometimes there are human ruins. Have you ever—”

Pearl looks up and gives him a look that’s all acid. She’s wearing her nicest sundress, one of the only two that made it through the closet cull, but her hair is short, short enough to show off the black earrings in her ears—at least three pairs in each ear—and he seems to finally take in her appearance and her _leave me alone_ energy. He looks back at his drink and takes a hasty gulp.

Luckily for him, Pearl’s phone vibrates, and she looks down. _Very astute._

Pearl’s eyes narrow. _u makin fun of me, huh? i’m trying to do what u said. i’m trying to find myself. i cleaned out my whole damn closet and thought about filling the pool with rocks. also i realized i fuckinnnn really hate golf._

Marina’s reply comes faster now. _I’m glad you’re trying._

Pearl squints at that. _y’know, i already have a hard time reading you when we’re in person. this is impossible. it’s like you’re speaking a different language_

Marina sends a laughing emoji along with her next message, so at least she’s having a good time. _Would you like me to speak a different language? Would that be easier?_

Pearl scowls. It’s been a few days and, while she’s been trying not to think about herself, she’s been thinking about Marina instead. She’s pretty much accepted that _yes_ , Marina is actually an octoling and Eight probably is too. She’s not that dense, especially when she’s been told it at least three times (twice by Marina and once by Three—not to mention all the times Eight and Marina have avoided going through the grates during derby matches), but it doesn’t seem like a big deal to her, at least compared to her own circumstances. Maybe it’s a little selfish, but she isn’t that surprised there are octolings kicking around Inkopolis. After all, they aren’t in time of the Great Turf War anymore. She likes to believe that her society is a little more tolerant now.

 _haha_ , she types back, _octoling joke. NO! it wouldn’t be easier!_

Marina doesn’t reply right away so Pearl sends another message before she can second guess herself: _i miss you. i’m sorry i’m so difficult._

Pearl puts her phone down and leans forward on the table, staring down at her empty plate. Her father and his associate are chattering away while the son is watching her with large, inquisitive eyes. She sighs and swirls her drink around in its glass.

“Girl trouble,” she mutters in his direction, just to get him to quit looking at her.

He sucks in a small breath, probably because that’s the first time she’s spoken all night. He glances at their parents, at her father and his mother, down at his plate, and then at her phone.

Tentatively, he places a hand on top of hers. She lets him mostly because she really wants to be comforted by someone, anyone. He doesn’t close his fingers, but his palm is soft—nothing like Marina’s. “She’ll come around,” he whispers, so their parents won’t hear. “You’re an incredible person, Hime. She’ll see it.”

That curdles Pearl’s stomach and she pulls her hand away. “My name is Pearl,” she says. She pushes away from the table and receives a small nod from her father, permission to leave without fuss, and she takes the out. She sweeps away, runs from the people who don’t know her, who don’t even know her name, runs from the life she hates.

Her phone buzzes again when she’s on the stairs. _You’re not difficult. You’re lost. I miss you too. Can’t wait to see you._

That does her in. She almost collapses there on the stairs but forces herself to finish her trip to her room. She pounds up the steps as fast as she can, her sandals slapping against the back of her feet, slams through the door, and throws herself onto the bed.

Her pillows are suffocating, which is good. She doesn’t want anyone to hear her as she finally lets it all out.

+++

Wednesday dawns and Pearl finds herself awake at six in the morning. She hasn’t been sleeping well lately—the bed is too big and the room too quiet. This is the same room she’s been sleeping in her whole life, but suddenly she can’t stand it, doesn’t recognize it, with its giant, yawning space. Her life is like that—full of voids that she can’t quite comprehend.

Three texts multiple times and tries to call, asking about their weekly meet-up. They’ve been doing Wednesdays for years, but today, Pearl can’t stand to tell her she can’t come. Instead, she mutes her phone and grows her hair. She spends hours in the bath, draining and re-running the water to keep it warm, and when one o’clock in the afternoon dawns she steps out of her room in the only romper she still owns. It has dinosaurs on it, and prehistoric fauna—the perfect outfit for this kind of thing. Maybe, she can use it to blend into the forest and disappear before she has to rub elbows with all of Camp Triggerfish’s rich patrons.

She has on chunky boots, made more for hiking than for socializing, but she feels they’re appropriate. Her long hair—almost as long as her body—is pulled back into a high ponytail and she shoulders a small black backpack. In the kitchen, she stuffs it full of protein bars and a bottle of water, throws in a box of matches just in case. You never know at a campsite.

The car drives quickly and soon she finds herself by the gates, alone. The opening ceremony isn’t until three because her father was counting on people making the trek from the city, so she has about an hour to goof off. She marks a beeline right for the cabins and disappears into one.

Inside, it’s all luxury, an escape from the escape. Isn’t that what a campground is supposed to be? A return to nature—an escape from the city. But, if you can afford it, the Houzuki family can offer all the modern amenities and a view of nature from the window. A small postage stamp of the real thing, while the poorer folks have to actually live in it. She shakes her head and steps lightly, still in her shoes, over the plush rug and runs her hand down the made bed. No duvet, just white sheets, high-count, soft. The height of opulence.

She sits at the table and lets her legs hang. There’s a kids’ room, she can see, with beds small enough for squid limbs to climb up into, a crib for the balls of tentacles that they call infants. Pearl tries to imagine that, taking care of a tiny blob that looks nothing like her but probably will in fourteen years. She thinks about falling into squid form just to hold the tiny blob close, tries to understand what it must feel like, to be that small again.

All of this not-thinking is making her philosophical. This is what Marina does to her. Makes her wonder what it’s like to have children, to _be_ a child again.

But then, what about Marina? Marina in Octo Valley, growing up somewhere else, in a different society, a different world. Speaking a different language, learning different things, listening to different music. What must she have given up? What pushed her to give up everything she knew for this new place? This new life?

Pearl shakes her head and looks down at the table, traces the wood grain with her finger. Her hair is heavy and it’s giving her headache. She hopes, more than anything, that this will go quickly, that she won’t be expected to entertain these people for long. She has more important things to do.

Like not thinking. And trying to figure out how she’s supposed to reconcile a life of training and a life of wanting, how she’s supposed to find herself in all of that.

She pushes away from the table and goes into the bathroom, stares at herself in the mirror. The first step, she decides, is to get rid of this hair.

+++

The ceremony is standard, and Pearl mostly just goes through the motions. The camp manager makes the speech and Pearl just stands there looking pretty with a giant pair of scissors, which she uses to snip the very real and very symbolic red ribbon blocking access to one of the cabins. After that, they pose for a few pictures and Pearl is nearly blinded by flashbulbs, but she’s used to it. The photographers call for her to smile, but she deepens her frown, squints into the cameras. Smiling for no reason doesn’t feel like the real Pearl, especially when she doesn’t want to be here. Her father will see the photos and they’ll have words later, but he has it coming anyway. He’s the one who forced her to come here.

Later, in the cabin, Pearl plays hostess but she’s not affable or congenial like she’s been trained. Instead, she rides the wave from before, where she acts how she wants instead of how she’s supposed to. She greets people she recognizes and tries to avoid the people she doesn’t. The old money is the same as always, turning their noses up at everything, running their hands over the sheets and the furniture, checking for dust in this almost-museum. No one’s stayed in here yet—there’s nothing to get dirty.

The new money is boisterous, and the young ones greet her with hugs and handshakes. A few of the girls comment on her hair, back in its customary bob, tell her that it suits her, tell her that she’s very brave for wearing it like that. She smiles at them and thanks them, tells them that they should try it sometime—it’s an adventure in and of itself. They laugh and say something like “oh I would never, but I admire your tenacity.”

Pearl, feeling herself, shows them around, tells the children how fun the beds will be to jump on, much to their parents’ chagrin, flushes the toilet to show how it works, uses a match from her bag to light the grill outside. She makes crass jokes just on this side of acceptable and she gets people laughing.

“I like the new Hime,” one of her oldest acquaintances tells her as they sit on a glider on the porch, watching as people filter out of the cabin and head toward their expensive cars. The girl is the daughter of her father’s best friend and she and Pearl grew up together and then grew apart when Pearl got into screamo and derby. She’s the only person in this half of Pearl’s life that knows that she owns a pair of skates.

Pearl pushes a piece of hair behind her ear, smiling to herself. “I think I do too.”

“She’s gutsy. More you. What happened?” She digs her elbow in Pearl’s side. “I know your father basically bribed you into being the graceful princess in public.”

Pearl sighs and kicks lightly at the ground to get the glider moving. “I met someone who made me realize a few things. I cleaned out my closet, y’know? I have _so much_ shit. Don’t you think that’s fucked up?”

She laughs and leans back. Her long hair swings with the movement of the glider and the cut of it reminds Pearl of Three. She misses her. “I think you’re better than most of us. You’ve always seemed more down to earth. Unreal, if you ask me, because you have more money than most of us put together.”

Pearl chuckles hollowly. There’s so much more to it than that. But, she doesn’t say anything, just continues to kick the glider into movement.

+++

Her father was right. Pearl makes it out of the camp with plenty time until when she usually meets Three, but she really just wants some time to herself. She directs her driver toward The Lagoon and sits back, fiddling with her phone. Three texted multiple times, each one increasingly more desperate, all culminating in one final text: _Eight said something happened between you and Marina!!! You want me to talk to her??? I’ll meet you today if you want. Lmk_

Pearl eventually bites the bullet and sends her a simple message: _wanna be alone_. Three replies instantaneously with a simple _ok_. And that’s why Pearl likes her. She doesn’t shove her nose into things unless you want her to.

Pearl is still wearing her romper, and she skates in circles, munching on a protein bar. No music this time, just the sound of her own breathing and the skates, heavy, against the floor. She does her traditional circles and loses herself to the feeling of it, the wind whipping her hair back, the bite of the chilled air on her cheeks, her legs in their familiar rhythm, stride long, body low. She skates the only way she knows how—fast, like a speeding train, all aerodynamic lines and swinging arms. Soon, she loses count of her rotations and her legs, her arms, her whole body. Soon enough, she’s not aware of anything.

It’s relaxing, to just skate like this, to let herself go and feel nothing at all. She can lose herself in what she loves, can feel like she fits in her own skin for a few seconds. There’s no one watching, no one expecting anything out of her, just the rink, the skates, and Pearl.

So where does this leave her? She’s not sure, but that’s the most she’s been comforted by the idea that she doesn’t know. Before now, the fact that she didn’t know what she wanted, who she was, just left her distressed. But now, it’s comforting because at least she’s trying, at least she’s throwing her clothes out and noticing all the empty space around her and wearing her hair short and trying to be herself—whoever that is—in every aspect of her life.

She’s doing this for Marina, yeah, but she’s also doing this for herself. She doesn’t like the person she becomes when she’s bratty or pretending to be someone she’s not. She _hates_ that when she closes her eyes at night all she sees is Marina’s shocked expression in Pearl’s kitchen, which then sometimes morphs into the sad, thoughtful one she had as she straddled her bike and rode out of Pearl’s life. She can’t get it out of her head and sometimes, when she looks in the mirror, she sees that face and doesn’t recognize herself. She’s communing with herself now, reaching deep down in there and picking out which parts of both of her lives she wants to keep, which parts she wants to throw out—a spring cleaning of its own.

But, it’s not so easy is it? Especially if she has to keep all these secrets.

She wants to be Pearl, the derby-loving rich girl. She wants everyone to see her skating like this, wants everyone to see her elbowing her way through the pack, wants everyone to see her joking around with Three, wants everyone to see her with Marina, see them holding hands, see them together, wants to take her to functions and parties and derby matches and everything in between.

And that’s it, isn’t it? She just doesn’t want to hide anymore.

+++

Pearl never really has her fill of skating, but when her body’s had enough she calls it quits. Her legs are shaking, and she can’t quite feel her knees. She gets as far as kicking her skates off before she realizes that someone is there, standing just inside the door, watching her. She squints against the light of the sun and recognizes the shapes easily: Eight, sporting a leather jacket, leaning against the doorframe like she owns the place. She’s in tight jeans and has her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail.

“Marina told me what happened,” Eight says as she straddles the bench in front of Pearl. “Are you okay?”

Pearl shrugs and pulls on a boot. “I should be asking you if _she’s_ okay. She seemed fucked up about it.”

Eight cocks her head to the side, clearly thinking, watching Pearl as she laces her shoe. “She was under impression that you were the one who was fucked up.”

The expletive sounds so alien coming out of her mouth—but then Pearl remembers that angry language that Eight spat out last week. Maybe she’s not so unfamiliar with curse words.

“I guess we’re both fucked up then, huh?” Pearl pulls the laces tight and begins the operation of the knot, looping one string around the tree, like she was taught when she was fourteen, at her first shoe fitting. “Did she send you?”

Eight shakes her head, sending her hair bouncing. It reminds Pearl so much of Marina that it makes her whole chest ache. “Believe it or not, I am also worried about your wellbeing.”

Pearl laughs, a soft sound, and reaches for her second boot. “Three’s been worried, huh? Probably can’t stop talking about me.”

Eight chuckles in return. “She has, but I haven’t seen Marina that upset before. She has always been happy, especially now that she’s here, in the city. It frightened me. When she told me what happened, I knew that you would need someone to talk to.”

Pearl, hands frozen on her laces, swallows once. “I fucked up bad, huh? To make Marina freak out so much. I’m a _moron_ —”

Eight holds out her hands, places them on Pearl’s knees. “No,” she says forcefully, “you misunderstand. Marina was shocked at the depth of her feelings and she was upset that she hurt you. But, you need to understand... Marina has never experienced anything like this before. Where we come from... This kind of thing is not practiced.”

Eight’s hands are like ice on her knees and Pearl is momentarily struck by the familiar gesture, how normal such casual touch seems. She wonders, briefly, if this is an Eight thing or an octoling thing. “What?” she finally manages, when Eight squeezes her knees to get her attention. “What’s not practiced? Flirting? Dating? That’s ridiculous—”

Eight pins Pearl with the hard force of her eyes. “You are correct. Such familiarity is not encouraged, especially between recruits. Marina held an important position. She was watched at every moment. She would not have had the opportunity.”

There’s so much to digest in that simple statement and Pearl can’t possibly take it all in now. Instead, she just lets her brain pick one thing, like a roulette wheel, and hope that it’s the right one. “I can relate... With the whole being watched thing, I mean.”

Eight’s whole body is tense, coiled tight with energy, and she leans further toward Pearl, hands still leveraged on Pearl’s knees, gaze intense. “That is most likely why she said what she did. She can see herself in you, in a way. She wants to see you free yourself.”

Pearl sighs and runs a hand over her face, suddenly exhausted. “I’m trying. I can’t just give up one side of my life though. It’s a different situation. I get that you and Marina... You’re trying to get away from something. I can tell it’s bad. But I... I don’t need to get away. I need to find a balance.”

Eight lets go of Pearl’s knees and sits back. “That is encouraging to hear. I want Marina to be happy. I want _you_ to be happy—and not just because you are Three’s friend. I admire you for your dedication. You are strong. The first time I saw you on the track, I knew you were strong. You will figure it out.”

Pearl looks down at her boots, one laced and one not. “I just hope I’m not too late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always put Marina in overalls and apparently now I'm putting Pearl in my clothes (I own that exact romper)... This is what happens when you reach peak gay. 
> 
> I told myself I would never ever put Pearl's father on-screen in any of my pieces because he's such a mysterious, unknowable figure, but I couldn't avoid doing it here. I don't have any personal headcanons about what he looks like or anything (other than "rich" and "like a dad"). He has glasses. That's all. He's just a floating pair of glasses. 
> 
> Chapter title from [here!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4gazNwzC4H0) (In case it wasn't clear, all the chapter titles are lyrics from songs that would probably play in a skating rink--electronic, techno, and in this case, 80s funk/pop. The lyrics themselves have to do with what happens in the chapter, at least tangentially. Also, the songs have to be bops.) 
> 
> Last chapter... Holy shit guys. I'm completely, absolutely blown away by the response to last chapter. Like, holy moly! I was really behind on this chapter but all those comments really kicked me in the ass to get this finished on time. From the bottom of my heart, thank you so much! <3 (I'll be replying to those comments shortly.) 
> 
> Next update will be on Sunday, July 21! See you then! 
> 
> Comments are MEGA APPRECIATED and cherished!! <3!!!


	4. if you gave me a chance i'd take it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pearl begins to figure it all out...

The rest of the week goes by much the same. Pearl continues to sleep like shit, changes cleaning targets from her closet to her room, tossing countless worthless baubles and bits that she doesn’t need or want and are merely there to make her feel better. On Friday she has an obligation that she can’t dodge—a fifteenth birthday for one of her father’s associates’ children—and she stands barefoot in her room, clad only in a pair of athletic shorts and a loose tank top and stares, arms akimbo, at her bare closet. It’s all dichotomous—poofy, tulle dresses in last year’s style and her casual clothes, which are all meant for derby matches or lounging at home. Nothing appropriate for this event.

She steals into town, drives herself in one of the less expensive cars, and ducks into the first boutique she can find. Inside, she decides on a bright pink pantsuit and pays an extreme amount of money to have it rush-fitted in a couple hours. She’s short and the pant legs need to be hemmed, the jacket sleeves taken in, and she wants it to fit and flare around her waist, to give her some shape. In the end, she’s ready just in time and she has to drive herself to the party.

These coming-of-age parties are common no matter the social sphere—fifteen is when most children have fully managed their humanoid forms, and it’s when most middle-class kids set their sights on Inkopolis and the Turf War stage. But, in Pearl’s social circle, they’re giant affairs, marked by extravagant parties with expensive gifts. Pearl walks in with a clutch filled with cash—courtesy of her father—which she tosses on the pile with barely a glance. She signs the guest book with her preferred name— _Pearl Houzuki_ —and looks for someone, anyone she can stand to socialize with for at least thirty minutes. Then, she can bounce.

Multiple people try to get her attention, because this might not be her party but she’s the biggest shark in the sea, so to speak. No one blinks at her masculine appearance so word must be getting around about her style change. Plus, Pearl has always been a little bulletproof. As the richest person in the room, she can do whatever she wants, socially, without having to worry about backlash. It’s probably why, as she was told at Camp Triggerfish, she’s always seemed the most down to earth out of all of the other rich kids—she doesn’t have to ass kiss or pretend to be impressed by the others, not really, and no one will dare say anything to her. Getting on her bad side is considered social suicide, though Pearl honestly doesn’t give two shits what people think of her. It’s why she’s always relished her forehead and her small eyes and her short stature.

There’s a sort of privilege that comes with having as much money as she does. She knows it. There’s also the sacrifices. Because, as much as she doesn’t care about what other people think of her, her _father_ does, and, until she inherits everything, she’s still under his thumb. They have a pretty good relationship, all told, but her father is still very much a traditional man who cares about image, especially because he wants the common folk to trust him enough to continue to visit his properties and use his products. Pearl is an extension of the Houzuki brand, so she has to be careful when she pushes these boundaries, when she interacts with these other rich children. She might be bulletproof, but her family’s image isn’t.

Still, she isn’t interested in socializing today, especially in this context. She wants to have her small interaction with the birthday girl, talk to two people (max), and get out of here.

“Pearl!” she hears, which immediately catches her attention because no one in this room should call her that. She whirls around, quite ungracefully, and spots the culprit, pressed right into a corner with a small flute of champagne: Marie.

Pearl often forgets that Marie is a Kensa. She’s not sure exactly how she’s related to Toni Kensa, but it’s close enough that Pearl sees her and Callie floating around social events like these sometimes. Usually, Pearl avoids them (for obvious reasons) and they let her; they pretend they don’t know each other in this world. Today though, Marie must pick up Pearl’s new energy, what with her new outfit and her short hair. She waves briefly, not exuberantly like Callie would but still inviting, and Pearl makes a beeline. A couple people try to intercept her, but she brushes them off.

“This seat taken?” she asks as she drops into the chair next to Marie. Marie gives her a small smile and takes a sip of her drink.

“How’s your head?” she asks, no-nonsense, cutting right to the chase. Pearl’s always appreciated that about her.

“Fine now. How long you been here?”

Marie shrugs. “An hour. Callie told me you skipped out on practice last weekend. You okay?”

Pearl leans back in her seat and crosses her arms. “What’s with everyone getting in my business? I’m _fine_ —”

Marie chuckles, clearly bemused. “You were knocked out, if I remember correctly. That’s usually cause for concern. I take it your father has you on lockdown.”

Pearl swallows once, suddenly very aware that Marie doesn’t and can’t know about Pearl’s involvement with Marina. “Something like that,” she lies through her dry mouth.

Marie shifts, adjusts her yukata just there. It looks so much cooler than Pearl’s pantsuit, especially now that summer is setting in with a vengeance, but she’s never been one for traditional clothing. “Well, I hope he lets you out soon. We have a rematch. Two weeks from tomorrow, if I remember right.”

This is the first time she’s hearing the date for the rematch, but she can’t blame Three or Callie. She’s been on radio silence for over a week now. She grins then, trying to appear confident while she’s still slightly panicked. “Ready to get your ass kicked?”

Marie laughs outright then. “We’ll see about that. Technically, we won the last one.”

“Yeah, because Marina cheated!”

Marie shakes her head. “If you say so.” She throws back the rest of her drink and pushes away from the table. “I should get going. I’ve fulfilled my duty. Stay away from the salmon,” she warns ominously, gesturing in the direction of the food table. “It took Callie down. She ditched me because she was feeling sick.”

Pearl laughs. “So now you’re ditching me. You aren’t staying for dinner? I heard it cost more per plate than most people make in a month.”

Marie grabs the small bag she had hanging on the back of the chair. “No, I’ve got somewhere else to be. Plus, I can’t hog you to myself. There’s a lot of people who seem to want your attention.”

Pearl sighs and wishes she could sink under the table. “That obvious, huh? Well, too bad. I’m talking to you.”

“And now I’m leaving. Good luck, Hime Houzuki.” Here, Marie gives a little bow, mostly for show, probably to save Pearl’s face more than her own. It wouldn’t do for Pearl to spend so much time with one person, especially someone with new money like Marie. “I’ll see you soon. Bring your best skates.”

Pearl grins up at her, vicious, competitive. “All my skates are good.”

Marie laughs again. “Cocky. I’ve always admired that. I miss having you around all the time. Tsunami Calamari seems like it was so long ago...”

Pearl watches her leave and wishes she could follow her. She’s not really hungry and not very keen on eating food covered with gold dust. Rumor has it they’re having beef, which is the rarest of the foods in Inkopolis, just because of the space required to raise cattle. But Pearl just doesn’t have the stomach for it.

Instead, she still wants to leave early. First, however, she needs to locate the birthday girl at the very least.

+++

The birthday girl is right where Pearl expects: in the middle of the crowd. Her name is Coral, and her father is right beside her. Perfect, now Pearl can make her appearance in front of the girl and her father’s associate. Two birds and all that.

Pearl pushes past a couple girls in floor-length dresses, their hair done up in fancy buns that are all weaved tentacles and hair sticks. At first, they begin to squawk at her but then they recognize her and clam up. Pearl swears she hears their teeth click together they close their mouths so hard.

“Hey Coral,” Pearl says when she comes upon the girl. She’s almost taller than Pearl and her hair is mid-length. As is traditional for these parties, she’s dressed in a shift dress that’s all sparkles. There’s supposed to be no shape to the dress, but Coral clearly has a rebellious streak to her because she’s tied a silken piece of ribbon around the middle.

“This is Hime Houzuki, the daughter of my boss,” her father says. He bows briefly toward Pearl. “It is an honor. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to attend.”

Pearl bows back, though not nearly as deeply. “It’s my pleasure. I remember when Coral was born. I was six and you were _so small_. Now it looks like we’ve changed places, huh?”

That makes Coral laugh and the sound seems to relax the crowd. Everyone is watching them closely—Coral, the princess of the party, and Pearl, the princess of the world.

“So, are you enjoying your birthday? I hope everyone’s been nice to you.” Pearl casts a look back at the crowd for show, and she sees a few of the younger teens shrink back.

“It’s been fun! I’m not that good at dancing yet, but... y’know.”

Oh, Pearl does know. Fifteen is when you’re still pretty new to your humanoid body, but the young ones usually pick dancing up quickly. She must be a late bloomer, if she still hasn’t gotten it down. Pearl herself managed to get her limbs under control right before her fifteenth birthday, even if she still preferred her squid form at the time. Most children do, at first. The post-puberty body is so alien, and squid form is more familiar—it is, after all, the body of childhood.

“You’ll get it.” Pearl winks. “I’m sure your dad here bought you a great pair of dancing shoes.”

“Yeah! I wanted sneakers but he got me sandals.”

Pearl nods. “Smart man. I got sneakers and it was hell trying to learn to tie laces while also trying to learn how to use my fingers.”

Coral laughs, probably picturing a younger Pearl struggling with shoelaces. Dexterous fingers come with practice, unfortunately. “I’m sure you did great, Ms. Houzuki!”

Pearl leans forward. “You know what? I did do great. Thank you for noticing.”

Coral laughs again and it jolts something inside Pearl. She realizes that this is the first time in a long time that she hasn’t put on an act. Ever since she walked in the door, she’s been relaxed, at ease, not overthinking her every move, not paying attention to everyone else’s eyes.

It... It feels good. It feels good to just make jokes and wear what she wants and slouch and to make this girl laugh. She _likes_ this.

“Happy birthday, Coral,” Pearl says, then adds: “And thank you.”

She sweeps away, leaving behind a confused birthday girl, but Pearl has somewhere else she needs to be.

+++

Pearl doesn’t really have a destination in mind, but she has a car and her athletic clothes from this morning so she’s not surprised when she finds herself first at The Lagoon, sitting in the parking lot with her hands tight on the wheel. But this doesn’t feel right. No, she needs to be somewhere else...

Then it hits her. Fresh2Death has a match tonight. She immediately backs the car out of its spot and points it uptown, in the direction of their home rink. Odds are, they’re playing there.

Pearl’s right and she darts out of the car without bothering to change her clothes. She marches right into the rink, still in her pantsuit and her wedges. As she wraps her hand around the door handle, she considers going back and at least changing her shoes, but no. She’s riding this wave as far as she can.

The match has barely started. Marie is on the floor in her backwards cap and her bomber jacket. There’s not a hint of the birthday party on her. Pearl almost believes that she hallucinated the last two hours or so, but then Marie glances her way—doesn’t see her—and Pearl catches sight of the makeup still around her eyes.

Pearl stomps up the stairs, heavy in her steps because she’s used to heels on flat surfaces only. She finds the first free seat near the front and places herself in it, leaning forward on her knees to watch as closely as she can. The opposing team is NeonTetras and they’re small compared to Fresh2Death. They don’t stand a chance.

That’s when Pearl sees her: Marina is warming the bench, one leg tightly crossed over the other, hair pulled up and away. Pearl gets a nice view of the back of her neck and damnit if that doesn’t make her mouth go dry. She’s hopeless, utterly, destructively hopeless.

Marina doesn’t play for the whole first period and Pearl doesn’t watch. Instead, she constantly finds her eyes drifting back to Marina. She and Eight sit close, whisper to each other, and point at their teammates on the track, probably analyzing the game. A fruitless exercise, in Pearl’s opinion, because it’s a total blowout.

At the halfway mark, Pearl feels a hand clap on her shoulder and the person beside her is pushed, shoved aside by a strong set of arms. Pearl looks up and sees Three, sandwiching herself between Pearl and her neighbor, and Pearl scoots over as far as she can.

“ _Excuse_ me,” Three barks at the grumbling teen next to Pearl. “Trying to sit next to my _best friend_ here. Yeah, you understand that huh? Thanks.” The teen scoots as far as he can, mostly because Three is unstoppable when she gets like this.

Pearl isn’t surprised to see her. She haunts Eight’s matches and Eight haunts hers. What she’s surprised about is just how long it took Three to find her.

“Look at you, Miss Fancypants!” Three whistles lowly, looking Pearl up and down. “You really wanna impress Marina, huh? You just come from a board meeting or something?”

“Birthday party.” Pearl squares her shoulders and grins up at Three. “You like it?”

“Girl, you _know_ I do. Usually, your clothes look like they’re wearing you, but _this_ — I’ve never seen you look so...”

Pearl, flattered, can’t help but slap Three on the shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Well, what are you waiting for! It’s half! They’re cleaning up the ink! Go talk to her!” Three points right at Marina, where she’s standing on her skates, arms crossed one over the other, watching the Squee-G as it makes its slow, trundling way around the track. She’s wearing the same outfit that she did at their last match and it’s still breathtaking, in Pearl’s opinion. Of course, Marina is always breathtaking.

“I can’t!” Pearl hisses back. “She said not to talk to her until I get myself all figured out.”

Three, who, Pearl realizes a bit belatedly, doesn’t know about that whole thing—dinner at Pearl’s house, the argument with her father, the subsequent guidance and ultimatum from Marina—merely blinks at her. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, but you seem fine! Hey!” She jumps to her feet, hands cupped around her mouth. “Marina! _Eight_!”

It’s Eight who hears her, probably because her ears are fine-tuned to pick up Three’s voice after months of love or whatever, and she looks up, scans the crowd, finds Three easily from where she’s jumping up and down and waving her arms. Pearl wants to sink between the gap in the bleachers and fall right to the ground, but even with her small size she’s too big. She’d have to go into squid form and—

Eight finally spots them and Three points with both hands at Pearl, making little stabby motions as she does so. Eight smiles right at Pearl and turns to Marina, grabs her on the elbow.

Everything slows down as Eight lifts her arm and points, right at Three where she’s holding her arms out in a grand presentation, jazz hands and all, in Pearl’s direction. Marina’s eyes easily follow the direction and Pearl can feel the force of her gaze, boring right into her face. Marina’s eyes widen and, then, impossibly, so does her smile. Her face morphs from one of confusion to one of pure elation, and it shocks Pearl to the core.

She was expecting disappointment, or apathy, or... Or... She doesn’t even know what she was expecting. She was expecting the worst. But Marina is happy to see her. Pearl feels like a ragdoll as Three fists a hand around her bicep and tows her up to her feet, yells _“She cleans up nice, huh!”_ which Marina definitely doesn’t hear. But that doesn’t matter because her eyes track up and down Pearl’s body, take in her perfectly tailored pink pantsuit and her short hair, her black earrings, her slightly elevated height... And she _beams_.

Pearl feels her knees turn to jelly and she has to lean on Three to stay upright. “Go down there,” Three whispers in her ear as she helps Pearl sit. “She’s happy to see you.”

Pearl glances up and then back down to Marina. But then, she sees Marie. She’s standing there with her arms crossed and her brow furrowed as she watches Marina stare up at the crowd. She can’t possibly know who she’s looking at because the stands are packed, but it scares the shit out of Pearl for a second.

“I can’t. Look at Marie.” She points. Three grimaces but quickly gives in. She waves her hand in the direction of Marie, a signal to Marina and Eight, and they quickly pick up what she’s putting down. Eight points at another section of the crowd and Marina nods and waves in that direction.

Pearl sighs but isn’t too dejected. After all, she’ll remember that bright smile for a while. That’s all she needs, for now.

+++

Marie eventually puts Marina and Eight in, possibly because she doesn’t want to wear out her second string. They play well, all things considered, but Pearl doesn’t really watch because she’s too busy explaining everything to Three. Three is appropriately chagrined but she maintains that everything went well, and Marina clearly is happy to see Pearl. Pearl can’t argue with that, but she’s also trying to stay positive.

The match ends as expected, though NeonTetras does manage to get a few points out of Marina and Eight because they both have to break from the pack to dodge around some grates. The crowd wakes up for that one and it’s the only intense moment in the game, so Pearl and Three break off their conversation to watch. Marina and Eight are fast but they split the grate so that they don’t get in each other’s way. The enemy jammer sails right through though, and she manages to score two points because she easily passes them when the pack comes back together.

Pearl and Three grimace at each other when Four calls an end to the jam. Marina and Eight are clearly breathing hard and Marina looks upset, but Eight claps her on the shoulder and says something that seems to cheer her up a little. It’s nice to see them getting along so well, Pearl thinks, especially knowing what she does. She imagines that it can’t be easy moving to a new place without someone to learn on.

Later, in the parking lot, Pearl offers to give Three a ride home, but Three points at her bike, locked to the rack next to Eight’s. “Got a date tonight,” she says. “Tubs of ice cream and then we’re gonna pass out on top of each other while we watch a boring movie.”

Pearl snorts. “The height of romance.”

Three throws her arm over Pearl’s shoulder as they walk toward her car. “You know how it is. Months and months of bliss. Things domesticate. It’s nice.”

Pearl sighs. “I wish I knew.”

“Oh, c’mon. This whole thing with Marina? It’s the most romantic shit I’ve ever heard! She’s _worried_ about you. She sacrificed her own happiness so you could _find yourself_. And you thought she hated you! Did you see how her face lit up? She _digs_ you. That’s romantic as fuck.”

Pearl detaches herself from Three when they reach the car. She leans back against it and crosses her arms. “You know what I think? I think you’re—”

“Pearl!” Marina’s voice cuts Pearl off and both she and Three turn to see her rushing across the parking lot toward them, unaware of all of the cars that could run her down.

“That’s my cue to leave,” Three says and she saunters away before Pearl can say anything. Just behind Marina, Pearl can see Eight following at a slower, safer pace, and she watches as she and Three reunite. They hug briefly, glance around for Marie, and have a small, risky kiss. The smile they share after makes Pearl’s chest feel like it could peel open. She wants something like that _so bad_...

Marina comes to a halt right there, with her hands folded in front of her, her skates stuffed into the bag hanging off her shoulder and she has a bandanna pulled tight around her head like always.

Pearl is still leaning against the car, still in her pantsuit, still in her wedges. She doesn’t wear heels often, mostly because she doesn’t like how everything looks different when she grows those few inches, but she likes the way they make her legs look longer, the way they make her seem more regal without any real effort. She’s not the best at walking in them but she’s had a little practice so she’s not _terrible_ either.

Marina looks her up and down again and gives Pearl a big smile. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” she says.

Pearl lets out a puff of air and runs a hand over her head. “I didn’t expect to come. I just kinda... ended up here. I’m sorry if you didn’t want to see me. I just—”

“No!” Marina takes Pearl’s hands in her own, a close mirror to the last time they were together, and it makes Pearl’s hearts speed up in panic. “It was a nice surprise. I’m sorry for how I left before... I was overwhelmed. I should have explained myself better.”

Pearl shakes her head. The crown on her head is pinned down so it doesn’t go anywhere, but it does flop around a little. “No, you were right. My behavior was wrong. I took what you said to heart though. I’m trying to... figure it out. But, I wanted to see you.”

Marina looks down at her outfit again, and Pearl swears she sees her blush. “I think you’re on the right track.”

Pearl, feeling emboldened by Marina’s blush, steps a little closer. “You think?” She smiles up because she’s still six inches shorter than Marina. She sees Marina swallow. That makes her bolder still and she scoots a little closer.

They end up like this: Pearl, standing close enough that she has to crane her neck back, with a fierce grin on her face. Marina, looking down with wide eyes. It’s pure physicality and it’s familiar, something Pearl is good at. She reaches up and grabs the collar of Marina’s top with both hands, lets her hands brush against Marina’s cheeks, and she swears she feels Marina lean into the touch slightly.

“Yes,” Marina says, and Pearl can feel her breath, just there against her nose. It drives her crazy. “I do think.” Her hands come up and she brushes them lightly across the shoulders of Pearl’s jacket. It lights Pearl up from the top down and it takes all of her concentration not to lift onto her toes and just end this whole thing, just kiss Marina full on the mouth right there. “I think it suits you,” Marina finishes, and her hands travel down Pearl’s arms slowly. It’s agonizing. Pearl can feel herself breaking. She fists her hands around Pearl’s again.

Pearl stumbles back. It’s all she can do to keep her mouth to herself. She lands with her back against the car again and her arms held out because Marina refuses to let go. Pearl groans. “This is _so..._ ”

“Exciting?” Marina teases.

“ _Unfair_!” Pearl whines. “You make me feel like I’m on fire! Like, you know how the turf war kids look when they have their special charged?”

“Of course.”

“You make me feel like how they look! But I can’t kiss you! Not like this! It won’t feel right!”

Marina doesn’t say anything, just cocks her head to the side a little, gives Pearl a chance to gather her thoughts and say what she needs to say.

“It’s like this...” Pearl looks down at their hands, takes in the sight of their clasped fingers, and it gives her strength. “You mean a lot to me and I’m taking what you said seriously. I need to figure myself out before we go any further. It’s not fair if I don’t show you who I really am.”

“Oh Pearlie...” Marina pulls her up, off the car, and into a hug that’s so tight Pearl can’t breathe for a second. But, it’s exactly what she needs. She hugs back, squeezing as hard as she can, and, for a second, she understands what it’s like to feel at home. “It’ll work out. Don’t worry. I’m patient. Take as much time as you need.”

Pearl wants to whine, because she’s not sure if _she’s_ patient, but she has to be. “I just hope...” Pearl says as she pulls apart. She smiles up at Marina. “I just hope that we stop meeting like this. I’m not strong enough. Next time I might kiss you.”

Marina laughs, throws her head back with it. “Is that a promise?”

+++

That night, Pearl can’t sleep again so she goes for a walk around the grounds. The sky is clear this far outside the city and she pauses near the pool and looks up. She wonders, briefly, what it must be like to touch those stars, to look down on this bright blue marble of a planet and see nothing but a round world of water. It makes her feel incredibly small, smaller than normal, and she forces herself to look away before she can get vertigo.

She knows these grounds well, spent a large chunk of her childhood running around and hiding from the staff, hiding from her father, hiding from herself. When she was just starting puberty, when she woke up one morning with a patchy piece of pale skin on her arm, she panicked and hid under a bush in squid form. It was like being in a forest, canopied by the protective force of the leaves and the limbs, and it took hours for anyone to find her. She remembers her father’s loafered feet, then his knees, then his large eyes as he reached under and picked her up gently. She was a little too large to be held, even as a squid, but he cradled her close like he used to when she was little, and he didn’t ask any questions. It was like he knew what she was afraid of.

A lot of her problems started when she finally managed her humanoid form for the first time. Her father scheduled a shoe fitting the next day and Pearl was forced to walk on unsteady slippered feet through the aisles of starter shoes. They all looked too big, too foreign, too adult, and she was overwhelmed.

“We’ve been waiting to see how she would come into her own,” she heard the shop owner say. He was a tall man, dressed in a similar fashion to Pearl’s father, and initially that helped her relax. This was the world she was used to. But now, listening with her new ears, hair long and to her hips, she felt like she needed to bolt. “I’m very grateful you chose our store. It is an honor to provide the young Miss Houzuki with her first pair of shoes.”

And that’s when things started to complicate. Pearl was no longer the Houzuki baby, the precious little ball of tentacles that everyone cooed over. Now, she was _Miss Houzuki_. She had articulate fingers and a body with curves. She became a prize, a thing to idolize, an extension of the family’s influence. She looked down at all the shoes and all she saw was expensive leather, harvested from the rarest of cattle, and she felt her own clothes—pure cotton, rare because it required so much room to grow—againt her skin, in thousands of contact points. She’d been wearing these clothes for years now, but she’d never really thought about them, but now they felt uncomfortable, itchy.

She picked a pair of sneakers because she liked the look of them. She held them up to her father and the shop owner with a bright smile on her face, trying to remain positive. She wanted to wear these shoes in turf war, to use them to kick a soccer ball, to plow through the streets of the city now that she was old enough to go out on her own.

The shopkeeper’s face twisted up into an expression that Pearl had never seen before. “Don’t you want a nice pair of sandals, Hime?” he asked as he crouched and tried to take the shoes from her hands. “They’re much daintier...”

“No!” Pearl pulled the shoes back, held them close to her chest. This was her decision to make, and she wasn’t going to let him take it from her. She’d been picking out her own clothes for over a year; she could choose a pair of shoes.

The shopkeeper looked back at Pearl’s father and he shook his head. “She can have what she wants. This is a big moment in her life. Let her enjoy it.”

The man sighed. “If you say so. Shall I show her how to tie the laces?”

Sneakers probably weren’t the best choice, all things considered. Pearl didn’t have the dexterity required for the laces yet, but she got it in a few months. In the meantime, her father had to tie them for her whenever she wanted to go anywhere, but he seemed delighted to do so. Something about a rite of passage for every parent. Pearl didn’t and still doesn’t get it.

Pearl makes her way toward the putting green, wanting to get as far from the house as she can. She’s barefoot now, but the grass is manicured and well-maintained. No sticks or bugs to harm her. It’s all soft around the edges, this estate, safe for young inklings with squishy limbs. Pearl remembers the first time she came home hurt, after her first derby match. Her father didn’t know that she was skating, let alone that she had joined a team, so he almost exploded from the sheer force of his own anger. She only had a long scrape on her arm from where she skidded across the ground after she was knocked out of bounds, but he acted like her chest had been ripped open.

The truth was, skating was the only thing that kept her from running away back then. Around the time she started skating, she also started making public appearances. The first few years after managing her humanoid form she was locked in the house for training—etiquette, how to pick a good outfit, elocution, how to be warm and inviting, how to appease, how to soothe, how to smile just there, so that her face was all soft angles. She hated it. Once, she contemplated crawling out of the window while her etiquette teacher rambled on about table settings, and that was when she knew she needed to find something outside of the house.

She stumbled on skating by accident. On a father-sanctioned shopping trip for new dresses, she ambled into a skate shop for the first time. Curiosity piqued by the in-line skates hanging in the window, she picked up her first pair of quad skates on the recommendation of the girl behind the counter. “They’re easier to learn,” she said, “balanced.” Pearl bought them on the spot, because they reminded her of something from before, made her wonder if this was what most people felt like when they got their first pair of shoes.

She didn’t get to use them until several weeks later, when she managed to escape the surveillance of her father and his drivers. With short hair and a hoodie to hide her face and body, she ducked into a skating rink for the first time and yanked the skates on. The laces were no problem and she pulled them tight. Then, she took to the rink, hugging the wall. She fell on her face a few times, but, a few hours later, she left feeling incredibly vindicated.

Eventually, she got it. She didn’t fall anymore. She didn’t need the wall. She wanted to go fast.

She wanted to _fly_.

For a couple hours every few days, she felt what it was like to be unhindered, to be able to push herself without worrying about anything else. She shredded through at least three pairs of cheap skates like this, because she pushed them too hard. Eventually, she shelled out for a pair of custom skates, bright pink, and she was approached by a coach, asked if she knew about roller derby.

After that, she was hooked.

Pearl sighs as she walks. She’s been sighing a lot recently, most because she’s been living in her own head more than she usually does. She’s not used to it, being this contemplative, questioning her whole life. It’s just that she likes her life—or, she thinks she does. She likes going to parties and talking to people. She likes it when everyone’s eyes are on her. It makes her feel bigger, huge, like a superstar on stage. It’s how she feels on the track during a match. As the jammer, everyone watches her, looks for her bright pink helmet, yells and screams when she makes a good move. She _loves_ to be the center of attention, so things aren’t too bad being the heiress to a giant fortune.

But then, she’s also stifled. She knows it. Three knows it. Her rich friends know it. Marina knows it. She suppresses the loud, sarcastic, blunt Pearl, doesn’t smile her favorite, toothy smile, doesn’t wave her arms around. She tempers her reactions, merely nods, doesn’t slouch, doesn’t cross her arms. It makes her angry, keeping all this locked in, and it comes out exactly as it did when Marina was in her kitchen. Pearl is spoiled and it shows itself in the ugliest of ways—when she’s been suffocating herself too much.

And that’s it, isn’t it? She needs to let herself go. She needs to stop closing the door in her own face. She needs to be free.

Which is exactly what Marina said—

“Pearl? What you doing awake, princess?”

Pearl, who had been watching her own feet in the grass as she walked, looks up. Her father is there, on the putting green, leaning on his club. He’s dressed in his slacks and a polo and he clearly hasn’t slept.

In the end, Pearl and her father aren’t so different. They’re both restless when they can’t sleep, they both adore spending money, they both suppress things. It’s the way of their family, really.

Pearl shrugs and kicks at a tuft of grass. Her legs are bare and her athletic shorts are tied tight around her waist. She’s in her huge t-shirt again, because it feels good to hide. She has to be in the mood for people to look at her body—probably the result of being under direct scrutiny the moment she got control of her humanoid form. It’s why, when she has to dress fem, she always goes for a shapeless poofball of a dress. No one can see her under all that tulle. Really, it’s only when she’s skating, doing derby, moving through that half of her life, that she’s okay wearing tight clothes, showing off her legs, her arms, her stomach. It feels safer, like she can trust those people to see her like she wants to be seen.

“Can’t sleep,” she says simply. She shrugs and her shirt almost slips off her shoulder.

“You okay? Want to see a doctor?”

Pearl scowls. “Don’t think a doc can help this.”

That gets his attention. “What’s up, honey? Did you and Marina break up?”

Pearl’s scowl deepens. “We were never dating, thanks.”

He stoops down to pick up the golf ball. “Well, you’ve been so moody lately. I figured it was girl trouble. And the only girls in your life are Three and Marina. And you’d never date Three.”

Sometimes, Pearl is surprised by how much he knows. They don’t talk much and when they do it’s never about Pearl’s derby life. Still, it makes her uncomfortable so she needs to get him off that subject.

“There’s _tons_ of girls in my life. You don’t know how many girls I’ve got, Pops.”

He snorts and drops the club into its bag. “Yeah, okay. C’mon, princess, don’t look so surprised. You want to be hard. I see it every time you put on your fancy clothes and turn into Hime. That’s a hard, no nonsense young woman. But when you’re being yourself? You’re soft. You’re still my squishy little girl on the inside.”

“That’s the problem.” Pearl crosses her arms and watches as he sets his clubs in the back of the golf cart he parked nearby. He’s never been a fan of walking around the grounds, would much rather drive his little electric cart to and fro, while Pearl’s always liked to feel the sun and the grass, to run as fast as she can. She sighs again, for what feels like the ten millionth time this week alone. “Don’t you think it’s weird that I have two names?”

He laughs then. “I do too. Your grandfather did before me. It’s Houzuki tradition. It helps keep you compartmentalized, helps keep you grounded.”

“I don’t think it’s healthy to split your life like we do.”

He sighs, which is a nice change. It’s hard to get him exasperated. Must be the late hour. “What would you rather we do? I tried to raise you like a normal child for as long as I could. You went to public school in the city until you were thirteen. I tried not to spoil you too much. We reserved your birth name for official things, and I didn’t let anyone take your picture until you were sixteen. But, at some point, you had to become Hime. It’s part of being in this family.”

“Well, it’s not good for me. Did you know that—”

“Is this what’s been bothering you?” He leans back on the golf cart. “You’re twenty-one, Pearl. I figured you’d be adjusted by now.”

“I was!” Pearl throws her hands up, frustrated. “I was and now I’m not! People change, Dad!”

“So, what’s wrong now? Is this about last Wednesday? Are you still—”

“No, it’s not about last fucking Wednesday! It’s about everything! I’m sick of being your pretty little daughter! I want to be me! I don’t want to have to flirt with all the other rich kids and I don’t want to have to pretend to be something I’m not, okay!”

He crosses his arms, face hard. “I don’t know what to tell you. This is what you have to do.”

Pearl groans and shoves the heels of her hands into her eyes. That’s what he always says. What you _have_ to do. What about what she wants? She wants to go about her life without worrying about people watching her. She wants to feel like she owns her own body. She wants to skate so hard her lungs burn. She wants to kiss Marina. She wants... She wants to go to parties but not because she has to. She wants to help her father, but not in the way he wants. She wants to be herself.

“No,” she decides. “No, I won’t anymore.”

“What?”

“You heard me!” She yells as loud as she can, with the voice that she knows can strip leaves from the branches of trees, the voice that she only releases on Mt. Nantai. It rocks the golf cart, but her father stands tall, used to her temper tantrums. “I’m not going to pretend anymore! I’m not gonna... I’m not gonna fucking lose myself just to keep you happy. I can’t...”

“Pearl...” Suddenly, his voice is soothing and he’s moving toward her with outstretched hands, ready for a hug. Damage control, to keep her placated. She backs away.

“No. No, I’m not— No fucking more.”

She turns and runs, sets her sights on the house, and superjumps as fast as she can. She lands on her own balcony and she crashes through the doors and onto her bed. Once there, she screams as loud as she can into her pillows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pearl so stressed and tired... 
> 
> Big shoutout to my girl [Katie](https://katiemonz.tumblr.com/) for drawing Pearl in her pantsuit just to satisfy my gay whims... The ultimate gf, everybody!
> 
> I thought this thing was gonna be four chapters huh? Let's just say it's ? chapters. I'm hoping for six but we all know by now that I'm awful at judging these things.
> 
> How about that Final Fest dialogue huh? Nintendo really said gay rights! Time for me to write more canon-based fluff... These AUs are fun but I need to do canon stuff too, y'know? Keep your eyes peeled! 
> 
> So, Marie has the Kensa logo on her kimono and the armor in hero mode has it too, so I just extrapolated from there. Not sure if Toni Kensa is her parent or what but! 
> 
> Chapter title from [here!](https://open.spotify.com/track/1SygHLwcvWp9fGIQVGIFWD?si=5V5qjMTERomg2ojNxgxtIQ)
> 
> Thank you sooo so much for all that comments last chapter!! I'm doing by biggest and longest booyah!!
> 
> Comments and kudos are cherished! Please feed your local authors!


	5. give into the sweet temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pearl runs away and Marina stands up.

Before the sun rises that morning, Pearl packs a bag and calls a cab. She doesn’t leave a note and she doesn’t make a sound as she leaves. It’s an impulse decision mostly, but she also kind of knew this was coming, in some sort of way. She needs to get away from this house and this life for a bit.

The cab drops her off at The Lagoon and her keys jangle as she unlocks the doors. Upstairs, down a small hallway, there’s an office that technically Pearl’s but that she never uses. Inside, there’s an empty mini-fridge, a desk, and a couch. It’s not much but it’s hers so she tosses her bag on the floor, kicks off her shoes, and drops onto the couch with a long, drawn out sigh.

She hasn’t slept much in the past few weeks, so it’s no surprise that she passes out so hard that when she wakes up she can’t remember her own name. Her mouth is gummed together with dried saliva and she can’t feel her right leg because of how she was lying. She groans once she realizes where she is and checks her phone for the time.

Five in the evening. Her father called multiple times, along with Three, Marina, and Eight. She sends a quick text off to Three: _ran away from home :(_ She tells Marina that she’s okay, just dealing with some stuff, and doesn’t bother to text Eight because she knows that she’s probably with Three. She leaves her father on read.

She tugs her sneakers on and plods down the stairs. The rink is so packed that she can barely move. The music is loud, and the lights are strobing. It’s Saturday, her mind supplies, the busiest day of the week, and she somehow slept through almost all of it. Granted, the rink stays open until nine on Friday and Saturday evenings, but Pearl is pretty impressed that she managed to sleep through the thudding base and the screaming children. Peacefully too.

She doesn’t really want to go anywhere because she feels grimy and needs to wash her face, but she desperately needs food. She marches right up to the concession stand and the poor girl behind the counter looks shocked to see her.

“We didn’t know you were here!” she cries, then covers her mouth in shock.

Pearl shrugs. “I snuck in this morning. I’ve been in my office all day. Gimmie a slice of pepperoni. I feel like I’m bouta pass out.”

With her pizza in hand, Pearl moseys over to an empty table. She’s still dressed in her clothes from yesterday and her shirt pools around her legs as she sits. She eats slowly, watching everyone on the rink skate in their circles. There really is something relaxing about the rink, just gliding along without a care for a few hours, a never-ending circuit where you keep moving, keep breathing, listening to the music and spending time with your loved ones. There are a few children, held tight in the arms of their parents, lots of teens, and quite a few couples, and they all move around each other with their own rhythms. It makes Pearl want, more than anything, to feel normal, to have a childhood where she spent the weekends with friends, running around the city, skating at the rink, going to the beach, having sleepovers, meeting at the park.

Pearl’s father was right when he said he sent her to public school. What he neglected to mention was that she went with a bodyguard and no one wanted anything to do with her. She wasn’t allowed to do much after school either; she was always whisked home for safety reasons. Hell, she only shook the bodyguard a few years ago, when she refused to leave her room until her father got rid of him. Inkopolis is an incredibly safe city, and besides, Pearl is scrappy. She can take care of herself.

Pearl sighs and bites into her pizza. It’s not that she _hates_ her life—it’s that she’s just kind of sick of it. There’s something about being normal that has this charm to it, especially because she doesn’t know what it’s like, not really. You always idolize what you can’t have, her father has always told her. But she imagines that playing baseball in the street or learning to skateboard or spending all of your free time in turf war has to be something special, if so many people love to do it.

She just wants to be normal for a while. She wants to flirt with a girl (Marina), go out with her friends (Three/Eight), and sneak back in after midnight. She’s twenty-one and she wants to have a childhood.

Pearl stares blankly at the crowd for a while after eating her pizza, but eventually she has to move. People are starting to recognize her; she can see a couple teens pointing her way, a few phones rise to take her picture, and she rolls her eyes and marches up the stairs.

The office is going to be home for a while, so she tries to make it as homey as possible. She only grabbed a week’s worth of clothes along with her toothbrush, laptop, phone charger, and her favorite pillow. She easily arranges the pillow on the couch, places the computer on the desk, along with its charger, and plugs her phone in. Then, she’s done. That’s it. That’s all she has. The clothes stay in the bag and she places it beside the couch.

She feels lost for a second, because she can’t go anywhere, not now, not when she’s still so groggy, but she also can’t stay here. She doesn’t know if she can handle being alone.

“PEARL! OPEN THE DOOR!”

There’s a loud bang and Pearl whips around. That’s Three’s voice. Three, with her perfect timing.

Pearl jerks the door open and Three barrels in. She takes one look at the room and whirls around, pins Pearl with an accusatory finger.

“You’re staying with me,” she says. “C’mon, gather all your junk. Let’s go. No way am I letting you stay here.”

Pearl stays where she is. “Nah,” she says simply. “I _have_ to stay here. This is _my_ place. I need to be in my place for a while.”

Three squints at her for a few seconds, trying to gauge something that Pearl can’t figure out. She pads to the couch and touches it with one hand, feels it for softness, then looks at Pearl again.

“Fine.” She falls onto the couch and crosses one leg over the other. “You’ll at least come over and shower though, right?”

Pearl laughs. “If you insist.”

“Oh, I _insist_. No way are you stinkin’ up your reputation just because you’re in a funk. Now...” Three reaches into her bag and digs around for a few seconds. “I brought comfort food, since you ran away from home and all. How do you feel about s’mores?”

Pearl perches herself on the couch right next to her friend. “Never had ‘em.”

Three looks up from her search, shocked. “ _What_? Your family owns a _campground_!”

Pearl shrugs.

Three looks devastated. “Oh girl, maybe it’s better that you ran away. Here.” She hands Pearl a bag of large marshmallows. “Now, where did I put the most important ingredient?”

Pearl watches as she dives deeper into her bag. It’s comforting to have Three here, especially because she’s so hellbent on something so small, so normal.

“Aha!” Three comes back up and she holds up a small metal blowtorch. Carefully, she tests it, lighting up her own face with the flame. “Every good s’more needs a fire! Gimmie a marshmallow.”

Pearl easily fishes one out of the bag and Three snatches it, sticks it with a fork, and lights it up without preamble. Pearl watches it bubble and darken, and she wonders if this is what childhood feels like—setting things on fire with your friends while you hide from your parents.

+++

That night, Pearl and Three stay up all night, jabbering about everything and nothing. They skirt around the elephant in the room—Pearl’s leaving home—and talk about safer things, like Marina, Eight, and the upcoming rematch. Pearl eats marshmallows raw, shoves as many as she can in her cheeks just to make Three laugh, and they fall asleep at seven in the morning, leaning back against the couch.

When Pearl wakes, she’s alone and on the couch. There’s a message on her phone: _had to get home. see you wednesday?_

Groggily, Pearl sends back a simple _k_. Luckily, she didn’t sleep too long—it’s only half past ten—so she gathers up her few bathroom items and plods to the restroom near the banked rink. No one’s up here yet because it doesn’t open until noon, so she brushes her teeth and washes her face without much worry. Then, she changes clothes, pulls on a pair of track shorts that have always been too big, ties them up with a quick flick of her fingers, and tugs a Creatures of the Smack Lagoon t-shirt on.

The downstairs rink opened at ten so there’s not very many people yet. Pearl unlocks her locker and her skates are there waiting for her, polished, with the laces shoved inside, and pulls them out. She gets them on quickly and jumps onto the rink. There’s only three other people here, and they all give her a wide berth as she skates her circles, makes her rotations, counts her breaths. It’s strange to be here today, on Sunday morning. If she remembers correctly, she had a brunch today with her father’s associates’ children, like she always does. It was supposed to be at New Albacore Hotel, in one of the ballrooms, just her and five other young adults, all of them trying to kiss her ass while she stared, bored, at the tiny sandwiches and sipped at watery tea.

Instead, she’s here, skating. Her legs move in a familiar rhythm and her skates are the perfect weight, slide just there, an extension of her body. She focuses on the floor in front of her, takes in all the imperfections, the perfect variations, the scuff marks, spots where the wood has been replaced recently, and it soothes her.

She finally feels rested—for the first time in weeks, since this whole thing with Marina started. It hasn’t gotten past her that even with the loud music, all the people, and the bad couch, Pearl managed to sleep better here than she did at home, in her soft, princess bed and the room of her childhood. She’s not sure what it means, exactly, but she does know that when she’s home, she can’t relax, can’t close her eyes with all the _stuff_ around her, staring her down. She’s much more comfortable here, surrounded by nothing and skates.

Someone new enters the rink—Pearl can just see the shape of a body in front of her, even if she can’t find it in herself to move her eyes from the floor. She skates with her head down, pounds her feet, kicks up some speed just for the hell of it. It’s early and she’s feeling energized.

She loops everyone once, twice, but on the third time the newest skater matches her speed, looks back to see her coming and pushes their skates harder. They pull up even with Pearl and she finally manages to pry her eyes up when they grab her hand.

“ _Marina_?” Pearl demands, voice husky after a few hours’ sleep and no talking. Marina smiles at her, just there, at the corner of her lips, and squeezes her hand.

“Hey,” she says, so simply, as if it’s not a miracle (to Pearl) that she’s here, “Eight told me you were here. I figured you’d be skating. Is it okay if I join you?”

“Is it— Fuck _yeah_! It’s great! I... I mean, if you wanna...”

Marina laughs and it makes Pearl’s hearts soar. They coast around a corner, fingers wound together, and Pearl can’t help but watch as Marina’s hair is caught by the wind.

Marina doesn’t respond, just matches her rhythm to Pearl’s. Suddenly, Pearl is transported back to that date weeks ago, where they came to this rink and skated as fast as they could, dragging around the corners and breaking the rules. That seems like a lifetime ago. Pearl squeezes Marina’s fingers between hers, trying to express some hidden, impossible emotion, and Marina squeezes back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Marina asks later as they drink sodas from the concession stand. They’re sitting next to each other, turned on the stools attached to the table to face one another. “Why you’re here, I mean.”

Pearl swirls her soda around, watches as it bubbles in the plastic cup. “My dad basically told me that I couldn’t get out.”

Marina sucks in a hard breath and Pearl looks up to see her face morph from concerned to angry. “He _what_?”

Pearl shrugs, expression and voice dark. “I’m a Houzuki. This is the family business. Two names, two lives. I’m destined to be the pretty little girl who entertains people while he runs everything. Eventually, I’ll inherit it all. I’m assuming that he’ll teach me before then, but until I’m _worthy_ I have to do my job.”

Marina doesn’t speak, just leans back and crosses her arms. “Pearl—”

“That’s why I left. I... Maybe it was the cowardly thing to do, but I couldn’t _sleep_ in that house, and after he told me that I didn’t want anything to do with it. I know I’m just running away but...”

Marina grabs Pearl’s hand. “I think what you did was very brave.”

Marina’s thumb moves in a soothing rhythm, drawing small circles against Pearl’s skin, and she lets out a small breath as the sensation causes her nerves to misfire. “It is what it is.”

That much is true. To Marina, this was a move of rebellion, like her own when she left behind her whole life, but for Pearl it’s more of a head-clearing exercise. She’s still not entirely sure what she should do about all this, if she should give up one half or try to blend her two lives in such a way that she can be herself. Because that’s the thing—she’s _both_ Pearl and Hime. She’s spoiled, rich, and rowdy; she does roller derby and she loves parties where she gets dressed up. She loves learning about the family business and looks forward to being the head of the family someday, and she wants to be able to go to concerts and wear black and get banged up on the derby track.

She screams her lungs out when she sings, and she knows how to whisper in someone’s ear at a party so that no one else hears. She’s loud, boisterous, and she knows how to sit and listen.

She isn’t just Pearl. That’s what Marina meant when she said she wasn’t sure which was the real Pearl—because even the half named Pearl isn’t the real Pearl. There are pieces of Hime that need to stay and pieces of Pearl that need to go.

“Marina...” Pearl sighs. “I think my problem is more complicated than yours... I—”

“ _Hime!_ ” a voice booms, and Pearl jerks, almost rips her hand out of Marina’s grip, but Marina’s fingers tighten, hold her in place. Pearl looks up, searches for the source of the noise, and there’s her father in his best suit with his assistant scurrying after him. He stomps toward her and suddenly she feels like she’s five-years-old again.

He looks out of place here in the rink, but that’s because Pearl’s never actually seen him here. He’s never bothered to visit, to see how it is, how it’s going, because he trusts Pearl to take care of it, yes, but also because he doesn’t like it, doesn’t like to acknowledge that his daughter has such an uncouth hobby.

But here he is now.

Oh _fuck_.

“ _What_ ,” he roars as he comes to a stop right in front of them, “do you think you’re doing? You had an _engagement_ today that you neglected to attend!”

For a second, Pearl looks away, cowed by her father’s anger. She may be an adult, but she’s been under his thumb her whole life. And when he gets like this, she knows that there will be hell to pay if she argues too much.

“I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you need to knock it off!” he continues, unaware, or perhaps uncaring, of all the people who turn to look at them. “You have a _duty_ to this family and I’ve put up with your rebellion quite enough. You—”

“ _Sir_.” Marina stands, tall on her skates, but doesn’t let go of Pearl’s hand. She squares her shoulders and holds her head up, stares into his face with her superior height and her hard gaze. That’s the face of someone who’s faced down immeasurable pain and difficulty, someone who’s willing to go down fighting for those that she cares for, and just seeing it gives Pearl strength. “You’re making a scene.”

Usually, that would strike a chord in him, but he’s too far gone in his anger. He levels a hard finger in Marina’s direction. “ _You_... You have something to do with this, don’t you? Ever since you came around, my daughter hasn’t been same—”

Pearl smashes her fist on the table and shoots to her feet. She can’t take it anymore, not with Marina standing so tall and her father going after her like this. She _won’t_ take it anymore.

“No, Dad!” she cries, and her voice shakes the table. “ _No!_ I’ve _always_ been like this! You just haven’t cared enough to see it! I’m not doing all that prissy shit anymore! _And leave Marina out of this!_ If you talk to her like that again, I’ll— I’ll—” She throws her hands up, frustrated. Marina never lets go, lets her hand fly up with Pearl’s. “I know you need me, Dad. You need me to do all the girly junk, but if you talk to Marina or _any_ of my friends like that again, we’re done.”

His face hardens but hearing that seems to make him aware of his surroundings, all the people around them. He coughs once and straightens his tie. “Fine,” he says, suddenly the familiar negotiator from Pearl’s youth. Gone is the over-emotional father, replaced with the family head, the billionaire, the CEO. “I’ll give you two weeks. Then we’ll discuss this in depth.” He turns to Marina and gives a deep bow, far deeper than any bow Pearl’s ever seen him give _anyone_. “I apologize for my behavior. I understand now that you are a cherished friend. I will be more careful in the future.”

Marina doesn’t say anything, just glares at him. Rightfully, in Pearl’s opinion.

Pearl squeezes her hand and relaxes just a little. “Listen, Dad, if you want to stop my allowance until we figure this out—”

“Pearl.” His voice is hard again, except this time it’s not angry. “I will never, _ever_ cut you off, do you understand? We’re family and you have more than earned your keep. I just wish you would _tell me_ when you’re going to skip out on your obligations.”

Pearl sighs and looks down at the table. “Fine. I won’t be doing anything for the next two weeks at least. Tell all of your friends or whatever that I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be flirting with their kids anymore.” She squeezes Marina’s hand again. “They don’t have a chance with me anyway. It seems cruel to lead them on.”

Marina smiles then, just there, and Pearl sees her father’s eyes track down to their still-linked hands. “I see. Very well. If you need anything, let me know. You’re always welcome at home.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll call.”

He nods and turns on his heel. “Oh, and Marina? I really am sorry. Thank you for watching out for my daughter.”

Marina nods once, a sharp movement. She doesn’t say anything in return.

+++

Pearl and Marina escape up to the office. The rink isn’t that packed but the few people who are there keep staring, pointing, muttering. So, Pearl and Marina kick off their skates and Pearl leads Marina up the stairs and into the office. Pearl tosses her skates by the door, clad only in her socks, and Marina sits primly on the couch. She’s wearing a pair of skinny jeans and a blouse that falls off one shoulder, and she adjusts her clothes when she catches Pearl grinning at her.

“You didn’t have to stand up for me, you know,” Pearl says. The office feels very stuffy, way stuffier than it was when Three was here, but that might be because Pearl is so much more aware of Marina, of every move, of her every glance, of her... everything.

Marina smiles up at her and begins to pull her sneakers on. “I know... But I wanted to. I don’t like to see you getting pushed around. It feels wrong.”

Pearl drops onto the couch next to her, watches Marina tie her shoes, and then leans her head against Marina’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says, hoping that this small moment of affection is enough. She wants to kiss Marina so bad, but she knows that she can’t.

Not yet.

Marina weaves her arm around Pearl’s back, pulls Pearl in so that her head is against Marina’s chest. Pearl can just feel her hearts, beating at a fast, constant rhythm. She carefully, slowly, to give Marina a chance to object, wraps her arm over Marina’s stomach. Marina’s hearts pick up speed just a hair, and Pearl’s easily match them. Suddenly, they’re cuddling, Pearl wrapped up in Marina’s body, and she tries to make herself relax, to enjoy this.

Marina rubs her hand on Pearl’s back. “You’re really taking this to heart. I never imagined that all of _this_ would happen... I’m sorry.”

Pearl sighs. “Don’t apologize. This was going to happen eventually. I was getting sick of it all. You just made me realize it sooner. Plus, I know we... like each other.” Marina’s hand stops its movement, which sends Pearl panicking. “I mean! I don’t want to make assumptions! But! I like you!”

Pearl looks up to get a gauge of Marina’s expression, worried, but she’s smiling, a small little thing that’s full of joy. “I like you too.”

Pearl’s hearts spike, jump and dance in her chest, and she feels like she’s back in school, back when all the flirting with all of those rich children excited her, back when things like _I like you_ meant so much more than it does now. Marina is smiling down at her, a slight blush on her cheeks, and Pearl can feel herself grinning back up, stupid and huge.

“It wouldn’t be fair to you to ask you to put up with all this,” Pearl says, trying to get the conversation back on track. “I _do_ act differently, but you’d have to keep all these secrets. I don’t want you to have to lie for me—at derbies or at fancy parties, I mean. Most people don’t know that I do both.”

Marina lets out a small, thoughtful hum. “I figured as much.” She glances down. “You want to take me to parties?”

Pearl feels her hand tighten around Marina’s shirt. “Duh!”

Marina laughs, deep in her throat. “You like me that much...”

Pearl looks up again, tries to show Marina how serious she is with the force of her eyes alone. “Of fucking course I do! I’m trying to do right by you. Before we move any further, I want to get myself all sorted out so I can take you to parties and introduce you to all my friends and tell everyone how badass you are! I... I want to make you proud.”

Marina tightens her arm, squeezes Pearl as tight as she can in a one-armed hug. “You already have.”

Marina lowers her head, presses her forehead to Pearl’s, and they stare into each other’s eyes for a few beats. Pearl feels her eyes prick—her whole life, she’s done everything she can to make her father proud, to fulfill her duty, but it’s only when Marina says it that she actually _feels_ like she’s doing something right.

“I want to kiss you so bad right now,” Pearl says, trying to keep herself from crying. Flirting is where she feels most comfortable, after all. Marina’s lips are so close, so enticing, and all it would take is one shift, one small movement, to meet them.

“I want you to,” Marina whispers back. She closes her eyes, breathes out slowly.

Pearl’s hearts spike again, and her stomach drops open, all the way to her feet. She feels her toes curl. “Would that ruin everything?”

Marina laughs and Pearl feels it vibrate through her whole body. It strikes a sharp chord against her nerves and she feels like she’s about to jump out of her own skin, or like she’s going to fall into squid form from the shock of it all.

“I think...” Marina pauses, a long, agonizing pause, and then nudges her nose closer. “I think it’d be motivation.”

That’s all Pearl needs to hear. Her body takes over. She closes those inches and presses her lips to Marina’s, tentative, careful. Marina reacts positively, deliciously, by drawing herself closer, but they keep it delicate, simple. No need for complications just now. Just them and the gentle touch of lips.

When Marina pulls away, her eyes are shining, and she looks like she just had her guts kissed out. It makes Pearl’s stomach spike in warmth—if one small kiss can do _that_ —

Pearl stops herself there. It’ll be a while until they get that far, but _fuck_ she’s looking forward to that.

In the meantime, Marina was right. She’s got plenty motivation now. She’s going to figure this out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOUSTON... WE HAVE LIFT OFF...
> 
> Shorter chapter this time but I didn't want to inflate this too much. There's a lot of emotionality here that would get lost if I added too much more. SHRUG
> 
> [Chapter title from here!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sxQdv3wZ5O0) Recommended gay listening... 
> 
> Thanks for your patience! It's been a rough couple writing weeks for me. Hopefully, I can get back on track, but I'm also going to see my gf for three weeks so we'll see how much writing I get done lmao! As always, if you want writing updates, I ramble about how I'm doing on my twitter: [@theashemarie](https://twitter.com/theashemarie)!
> 
> BIG THANKS FOR ALL THE COMMENTS AND KUDOS!! All those comments got me like ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ
> 
> Next update will be... sometime. OTL
> 
> Comments and kudos are cherished and appreciated!!


	6. when the working day is done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friendships are strengthened... Laws are (almost) broken... There are kisses...

Marina stays all day and she and Pearl spend it curled up on the couch, watching movies on Pearl’s laptop or talking. Pearl sits with her back against the armrest and her legs hooked over Marina’s, while Marina sits properly, arms crossed over her chest. They don’t kiss again, because Pearl doesn’t want to spoil it, and Marina doesn’t say anything contrary, so Pearl assumes that she feels the same. Instead, they glance at each other and, when their eyes meet, look away, blushing. Pearl’s never smiled so much in such a small amount of time and her cheeks begin aching after the first film.

“I think you need to move out,” Marina says in the lull between movies. Pearl, leaned forward to use the touchpad on her laptop, stiffens and sits up.

“What?”

“Out of your father’s house, I mean.” Marina’s face is hard, no nonsense, and Pearl knows immediately that she’s serious.

Pearl sighs and leans back. “I can’t say I haven’t thought about it.”

“Space is good.” Marina places her warm hand on Pearl’s leg. “Separation might make him realize you’re not a child anymore.”

Pearl doesn’t say anything for a few beats. It’d be unheard of—the whole Houzuki line has lived out their entire lives on the estate. When Pearl was little, she lived in that house with her great-grandparents, her grandfather, and her father. Of course, her great-grandparents were well over 150 when she was that small, so they didn’t last long, and her grandfather hadn’t made it to ninety because of complications with his health, despite their doctors’ valiant efforts. Now, it’s just Pearl and her father, and it would be them for a while, considering her father had her when he was very young and is barely fifty now. Honestly, she can’t imagine living with him for the next 100+ years.

One problem though.

“I don’t know there I’d go,” Pearl says eventually. She covers her eyes with her hands, suddenly exhausted. “I can’t live here, and I don’t have a job. My job is to represent the family.”

Marina grabs one of Pearl’s hands and pulls it away from her face. “You could live with me.”

Everything freezes. Pearl feels her body go dormant as her brain stops, as the clock on her laptop stops blinking, as all noise from the banked rink—open now—disappears. Pearl looks at Marina looking at her and sees that she’s completely, deathly serious. Her eyes are slightly narrowed, and her mouth is pulled into a terse line. Pearl doesn’t know what to say, can’t get her mouth to work, can barely breathe.

Marina must see something on her face because her expression shifts just there, a micro-movement that tips the corners of her mouth down into a frown. That small motion is enough to kickstart Pearl’s brain back into life. The sounds of the outside world come back, muffled by the door, and Pearl breathes out once, a quaking thing.

“I’m sorry for being so forward,” Marina says before Pearl can get her mouth working. “I want to help.”

“You barely know me,” Pearl says, which is the understatement of the year considering the big mess they currently find themselves in. This whole thing started because not even _Pearl_ knew herself.

Marina is still holding Pearl’s hand. It’s a habit that Pearl’s been noticing—Marina grabs on and doesn’t let go, no matter what. If this was any other circumstance, she’d celebrate this development, this instinctual grabbing and holding, but Pearl is far more concerned with everything else.

“I can see you now.” Marina rubs her thumb along the back of Pearl’s hand. “You’re rowdy, kind, spoiled, and loyal. You react to stress with anger because that’s how you feel the most seen. Your father only listens when you get mad and hold your ground. Somehow, you’re also incredibly realistic. I’m impressed by how rooted you are, considering how easily you could be some flighty, air-headed rich girl.”

“Hey,” Pearl cracks, feeling warm and seen. She’s never had _anyone_ describe her so accurately. Hell, she’s never felt like anyone really looked at her that closely. After all, she’s supposed to be all image. “Some of my oldest friends are flighty, air-headed rich girls. They’re a lot of fun. Be nice, damn.”

Marina laughs. “I apologize. But I can see parts of the real Pearl now. She’s funny, blunt, rich, and trustworthy. I’d be more than happy to live with someone like that... Especially because you’re suppressed. You need to get out to figure out what you want to do with this giant dichotomous life you have.”

She has a point, but Pearl remembers what she told Three yesterday. She needs to be in her _own space_ to find herself. If she flies to Marina’s apartment, she’ll just become the Pearl that Marina sees, the Pearl that she most wants. Pearl needs to have a buffer zone where only she exists, for a bit anyway. She can’t live in Marina’s or Three’s or even Eight’s space with all of their things and their routines and their opinions clogging it up. Pearl needs to be at this rink or in her own apartment.

“Let’s just get through the next two weeks,” Pearl says eventually. She watches Marina’s face closely for reaction and is relieved to see Marina’s expression soften in understanding. “Then I’ll let you know.”

Marina nods, sending her hair bouncing.

+++

That night, Callie calls a last-minute practice and Marina offers to drop Pearl off at the rink. The Lagoon is busy, so Callie has to find a different rink across the city, so Pearl hops up onto the back of the bike and clings tight to Marina’s back. Marina drives quickly, pulls quite a few moves that Pearl is pretty sure are illegal, but she doesn’t say anything because she’s too busy trying to give directions as they weave between cars.

When they arrive, Pearl is decidedly windswept, and her cheeks are burnt pink from the evening summer air. She slides off the bike, shoulders her backpack, stuffed full of her skates, knee pads, and helmet, and looks up at Marina.

“Thanks,” she says, suddenly very eager to linger, oblivious to the danger of Callie seeing them. “Y’know... for everything.”

Marina knocks the kickstand down and swings her leg over so she can lean against the bike. With her helmet on, it’s hard to make out her face or her hair. “Want me to pick you up?”

“I... Uh...” Actually, Pearl hadn’t considered that far into the future. She doesn’t have a car and Three only has a bicycle; Pearl can see it chained up to the rack near the door. Of course, there’s always the train, but Pearl needs a new card and—

“Text me when you’re done,” Marina says. She tips her helmet up just enough for Pearl to see her whole face. “I’ll take you _wherever_ you want to go.”

That offer is so loaded that Pearl feels her whole body heat up. She shifts uncomfortably from one foot the other, trying to dissipate the uncomfortable pool of warmth that’s collected in her lower back. “Anywhere?”

Marina laughs. “Yeah, anywhere. Listen, I had fun today. It was nice to spend some time together in private. We should do it again.”

Pearl smiles then. “Yeah! We should!”

“Now,” Marina leans forward, “I really want to kiss you again, so you either need to turn around and march inside or— _Mnph!_ ”

Pearl doesn’t need to be told twice. She darts forward and plants one on her right there in the parking lot. The quick movement almost sends Marina’s helmet flying but Marina catches it easily, holds it in place on top of her head. Pearl presses her lips into Marina’s and Marina eagerly meets her, parting her lips wide enough just for a few small sounds to slip their way out. Marina’s lips are soft, so unlike the rest of her body, so unlike Pearl’s chapped ones, and Pearl doesn’t want it to ever end.

But then, of course, it has to. Marina pulls away before it can deepen too far—before they can experiment too much. It’s still more of a light peck than anything, but it leaves Pearl reeling with sparks in her vision just the same. _Fuck,_ she can’t wait until they can put all this behind them and do this properly.

“See you later.” Marina throws her leg back over the bike and kicks the kickstand up. She revs once and speeds away, body hunched over the bike. Pearl watches until she’s disappeared completely and then darts inside.

+++

Three was clearly watching from the door because the first thing she says to Pearl is “That was _risky_.” She drops her skates on the floor next to Pearl’s feet and plops down on the bench. “But shit girl, didn’t know you and—” She glances around, probably to make sure no one’s overhearing. ”—you know... were that close. Last I saw, you just started talking again.”

Pearl shrugs and loops a knee pad around her leg. “Things change fast.”

“You’re _telling me!_ I need to put an emotional tracker on you or something. There’s no keeping up.” She shoves Pearl lightly in the shoulder. “You gotta keep me in the loop, damn. Text me every now and then.”

“To be fair, I saw you this morning,” Pearl says. She tightens her knee pad as tight as it can go and smashes the Velcro together. 

“I know! I tucked you into bed on your couch and everything. Speaking of, you _stink_. You’re coming with me after this to shower.”

Pearl snorts and straps an elbow pad on. “Sorry, can’t. Mar—” She cuts herself off, suddenly recognizing their surroundings, the way everyone else can hear them talk. “I have a ride.”

Three scrunches up her nose. “Then tell her she can come too. You can both shower at my place for all I care, but you _gotta_ clean up. She’s not gonna want to hang out around you if you go any longer.”

Pearl scowls at her. “I’ll think about it.”

“Nah uh.” Three pins her with an authoritative finger. “You’re on your own for the first time in your _life_ and you have to stay on top of your personal hygiene. If that means I have to be your surrogate parent, then so help me. Don’t make me march up to your girl and tell her that you’re refusing to shower, because I will. I so will. I can destroy your reputation like _that_.” She snaps her fingers.

“Pearl has a girl?” Callie appears right in front of them, sunglasses pushed up onto her head, hands clapping excitedly. “Congratulations! You should bring her to our next match!”

Pearl feels all of the color drain out of her face. Next to her, Three ratchets up into a tense flagpole and she sputters a few times, something that sounds like “Girl? No... Did I say... What did I say?”

Pearl puts a hand on her leg to calm her down. “She doesn’t live in the city,” Pearl lies.

“Well...” Callie puts her hands on her hips. “When she finds her way here, I’d love to meet her! She’s an honorary member of Creatures of Smack Lagoon now! What does your father think?”

Pearl scowls. “He’s whatever. You know how he is.”

Callie grimaces because she does. Because she’s Pearl’s team captain, she’s had the displeasure of talking to Pearl’s father about this whole derby thing (well, mostly, it was him ranting about Pearl’s safety and Callie nodding and making snide comments about how _Pearl_ will probably be the one _doing_ the injuring), so she knows _exactly_ what he’s like. “At least he’s not trying to control your love life,” she says as some sort of consolation.

Pearl doesn’t say anything because he’s _not_ — It’s Callie who’s doing that, not that she knows it. Instead, she shoves her foot into one of her skates and shrugs.

“Well, it’s still new,” Callie says. “Give it time and he’ll come around. Next, we need to find Three here someone.”

Pearl feels Three go rigid next to her and Pearl looks up from her lacing. “Yeah, Three’s _insufferable_ when she’s single. We really need to get her someone to kiss, A-SAP.”

Three sends her a look that’s one part grateful, two parts annoyed. “I’m perfectly capable on my own, thank you.”

Callie grins at her. “Just picking on you. C’mon, we need to get moving.” She turns away and claps her hands loudly before ordering everyone to the track.

+++

Practice goes fine. Callie tells everyone to welcome Pearl back after her recent head trauma and they do a few drills before splitting into two groups to do a few skirmishes. Three and Pearl end up on different teams, but Pearl’s team wins because she’s in perfect fighting form. She plows her way through the pack shoulder first, throws her weight around, sails through the grates, and allows herself to become only her skates, to feel only her feet, to ignore the pain when someone’s elbow flies into her stomach or when she’s shoved out of bounds. She relishes every shove, every push, every small moment of violence that lets her release her frustration. When she lands out of bounds on her knees, she gets up quickly, spurred by the aggression, happy to finally have an outlet for all of the irritation of the past week; when she’s jostled too hard, held back by arms and bodies, she lowers her center of gravity and pushes herself harder, faster, gritting her teeth around her mouthguard and she shoves and pushes back, just as fierce.

In the end, they all end up a little bruised, but they’re happy about it. They’re happy to have Pearl back. Pearl’s happy to be back.

Pearl texts Marina when almost everyone else has cleared out. She hangs out around the corner from the rink to hide from Callie, and Three haunts her, sets her bike on its kickstand, sits in the grass, and leans back on her hands. Pearl, sore in all the right places, rolls her shoulder and massages the joint, while Three stretches her back and legs.

“What are you planning on doing? Chasing us on your bicycle?”

Three flips Pearl off immediately. “I’m going to be as annoying as possible.”

Pearl groans. “What if I promise that I’ll be there? You can go ahead and we’ll meet you.”

Three squints at her. “Pinky promise. You wouldn’t dare break the solemnity of a pinky promise.”

Pearl puts her hand over her chest. “My word is my vow. My pinky is my dedication.”

They do the deed, Three hooking her pinky tightly around Pearl’s and looking her right in the eyes. “I promise,” Pearl says, “to come by your place to shower before tomorrow morning.” She pulls her hand away quickly.

Three makes a loud error noise, an _ERR!_ of a sound. “Wrong. Try again. In the next _hour_.”

Pearl’s mouth drops open. “But _moooom!_ I wanna hang out with Marina!”

“I already told you—bring her with you.”

Pearl groans.

“Make your pinky promise or I’m about to get real cozy with your deepest secrets. I think I’ll tell Marina about the time you had a boyfriend and—”

“ _No!_ Fine.” Pearl hooks her finger back around Three’s. “I promise to come by your place to shower within the next hour.”

“Perfect. Do not break the vow... I’ll take my leave now. See you soon.” She throws her leg over the bike and kicks off, holds her hand out in a physical turn signal when she gets to the exit of the parking lot, and merges into the light flow of traffic carefully, safely, so unlike Marina that Pearl briefly wonders how she ended up hanging around such two different people.

Marina appears soon enough. She has a backpack strapped to her back which brings Pearl pause—mostly because how else will she hold on? Marina grins at her, tosses her the extra helmet, and stuffs the backpack into the storage now that there’s enough room. Pearl scrambles on and hooks her arms around Marina’s middle. They don’t say much because they both know they were pushing their luck earlier and they need to get out of here.

“Where to?” Marina asks, in a tone that Pearl can’t quite read. It seems a little too forced, the nonchalance, and it makes Pearl suspicious.

“I’ve been ordered by the Shower Police to make an appearance in court. Do you know where Three lives?”

“I have her address right here.” Marina digs her phone out of her pocket and hands it to Pearl. When she slides it open, she sees a map screen with their projected path. Pearl squints.

“Why do you—”

“We better go! Tell me when to turn!” Marina revs once and then kicks the bike into motion. Pearl has to scramble to hold on and she loops her arms tight enough around Marina to make her let out a quiet breath.

+++

Pearl and Marina actually beat Three there, so they stand outside the door to her apartment like a pair of loiterers. Pearl kicks the ground with the toe of her sneaker and tries not to think about how badly she really needs that shower. Now that she’s post-practice, she’s sweaty and sticky and she really needs to change her clothes. Hopefully, Three will let her borrow something—it’ll be too big, but it’s better than nothing.

“How was practice?” Marina asks, probably just to break the silence.

Pearl sends her a sly grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know? I don’t share industry secrets.”

Marina rolls her eyes. “Last I checked, you were knocked out the last time you played derby.”

Pearl waves a hand. “I’ve had worse. I’m fine. Practice went well. I finally felt like myself again.”

Marina hums, a small positive sound, but doesn’t say anything else. Instead, she leans back against the wall, backpack hanging off one shoulder. Pearl wants to ask what’s in there, but she doesn’t want to pry too much.

“Hey!” Three bounces up the stairs toward them, jangling her keys. “What are you doing out here?”

“Waiting for _you_. We beat you.”

Three shoves her key in the lock. “You could’a knocked. Eight’s here.” She turns the knob and swings the door open, gesturing them inside.

“Oh,” Pearl and Marina say at the same time. Quickly, they duck inside and stand awkwardly in the entrance area while Three follows them, tows the door shut, and kicks her shoes off. Pearl carefully toes her own off, watching as Marina does the same, and then Three drops her keys and bag on the small table pressed against the wall by the door.

Three’s apartment is pretty barebones, decoration-wise. She’s more about utility than aesthetics, but Pearl appreciates that about her. After living in a world of interior designers and constant renovation because her father was never quite happy with their home, a simple apartment with no frills is exactly the palate cleanser she needs.

It's a small thing, only three rooms—the bedroom, the kitchen/living room, and the bathroom, but it’s the perfect size. There’s a kitchen table but it’s covered with turf war weapons—a roller, a charger, and a splattershot—and books; Three usually eats on the couch, Pearl’s been told. The bedroom door is closed but the living room is clean and empty, not much clutter to be seen. There are movies lined up by title on either side of the TV. Otherwise, everything is tidy and non-intrusive.

“I’m home! Pearl and Marina are here too! Put some pants on!”

Eight’s head appears from around the corner. “I always wear pants.”

“It’s a joke— You know what? Never mind. You,” Three points right at Pearl, “vertical squirt bath. Go. You know where it is. Marina, you can go sit on the couch. Dinner will be ready by the time Pearl is free of the stank.”

Pearl doesn’t know what it is, but there’s something suspicious about this whole thing. Eight doesn’t live here but there’s the tell-tale smell of cooking, of spices, of oregano, of basil, and Marina didn’t ask once why they’re here, beyond Pearl’s joking explanation, and now she’s making herself right at home, like Three expected her.

“What’s going—?” Pearl begins to ask but is cut off as Marina shoves the backpack into her arms.

“There’s clean clothes in there. Yours are in the small pocket. I grabbed your toothbrush too.”

“Toothbrush? Why would I need a toothbrush?”

“Sleepover!” Three cries, throwing her arms up. “We’re gonna dogpile on the floor and watch scary movies and at four in the morning I’ll probably tell you my deepest, darkest fear but you don’t have to tell me yours... Eight will probably cry because she gets like that after midnight. If you want, I can paint your nails, but it’ll be shit. _Oh_ , and I bought popcorn.”

Pearl can’t say anything for a second. She just stares at them, Three jabbering on about all the boardgames they’re going to play while Marina nods enthusiastically. She honestly doesn’t know what to say and she can feel her chest swell with some unknowable warm emotion. Here are her friends—three earnest, beautiful women—doing everything they can to make sure that Pearl can experience everything that she missed. She knows this is all Three’s doing; she’s told her multiple times that she’s never been to a sleepover, never really had a childhood. But, Marina and Eight are going along with it, facilitating, smoothing down the edges so that everything goes perfectly.

She feels like she could cry because this is _exactly_ what she needs. She needs to unwind and spend the evening with her friends, do something she’s never done before, go stupid on snacks and soda, maybe even kiss Marina again when Three and Eight aren’t looking. She _needs_ to go through this rite of passage, to see what she was missing, to know who she is.

“The noodle cake is almost ready!” Eight calls, breaking through Three’s rambling and Pearl’s spiraling, happy thoughts.

“The _what_?” Marina demands.

“Lasagna.” Three’s smile is wide and slightly wild. “She didn’t get it, so I had to explain it to her like... It’s like...” She holds her hands out, tracing the shape of a rectangle. “A layered noodle cake.”

“Guys...” Pearl starts, only to finally break and lose it. She laughs, her body shakes with it, and she’s almost bent double with it. “Guys... I love you so much.”

“What the hell are you still doing here?” Three grabs her shoulders, spins her around, and shoves her toward the bathroom. “Go shower so we can get this party started properly!”

Pearl follows her instructions, laughing the whole way.

+++

The lasagna is delicious, but Pearl knew it would be. Eight is an incredible cook and she knows just how to adjust a recipe to make it perfect. They gobble down the main course and the garlic bread and Pearl downs at least three bottles of soda, which leads her to letting out the loudest, wettest burp she’s ever released. It leaves everyone stunned, but then they all clap.

“I’ve never been allowed that much,” she says later, when they’re all camped out under a blanket fort in the living room. It’s constructed out of a large quilt, a few chairs, some heavy books, and some sort of advanced pulley and rope system that Marina and Eight designed on the fly. They can adjust the height of the tent with a pulley and Eight even strings a set of battery-powered string lights up. Those quickly get turned off when they start the first movie though.

They talk through the whole film, tossing popcorn at the screen when something corny happens, and Pearl almost jumps out of her skin when Marina nonchalantly places an arm around her shoulders. Three and Eight, meanwhile, end up on of each other—Eight leaning back against Three’s chest, while Three’s tentacles move to hug her body like a huge blanket. Pearl grins up at Marina when they nod off like that for a good hour or so. Pearl and Marina don’t bother to wake them and instead talk quietly about nothing of real importance: Pearl suggests a good burger place and Marina explains how to use a washing machine because Pearl will have to do that soon enough.

When Three and Eight wake, it’s about midnight. They go for more snacks—this time of the chocolate variety, and then Three and Pearl educate Eight and Marina on the subject of clapping games. They teach them the rhythmic, rhyming chants and walk them through the hand motions. Soon enough, all four of them are sitting in a circle and slapping their hands against one another, speeding up every time the chant reaches its end. Three and Eight are knocked out quickly, but Pearl and Marina sit facing each other, smack their hands hard and quickly enough that Pearl’s begin to feel warm and turn pink, but she refuses to give up, mutters the chant as they speed up again.

Three whistles lowly. “We got a pair of tryhards here.”

“I’ve always had excellent rhythm,” Marina mutters as they continue the clapping. Pearl keeps the chant going. “I wanted to be a musician for a while.”

“So did Pearl,” Three says. “She almost fell into the punk scene, but her dad stopped that.”

Pearl scowls, remembering, distantly, the two weeks she tried to wear black and pierced her ears three more times, along with her eyebrows, nose, and tongue. Her father almost nuked the whole house when he saw her like that.

“He stops a lot, doesn’t he?” Marina almost misses a clap, but she quickly recovers before Pearl can call her on it.

Three shrugs. “He doesn’t want his daughter to be dragged all over the tabloids.”

“Can we not talk about this?” Pearl demands, and the chant falls apart. She misses a slap and Marina throws her hands up, victorious.

“Loser kisses winner!” Marina cries and she leans down, inviting, eager. Pearl can’t _not_ grant her request, especially since she _is_ the loser.

“Glad I was knocked out first,” Eight mutters just as Pearl slides forward onto her knees so she can crane upward and press a quick, forceful peck to Marina’s lips. “I don’t want to kiss Pearl.”

“Hey!” Pearl cries when Marina pulls away. “I’m a great kisser!”

Three laughs and drags Eight close. “I’m sure you are, but you can’t kiss this one. She has unlimited access to _my_ lips.”

Eight smiles and obliges her, drops a soft smooch on the corner of Three’s mouth, and that just makes Three smile bigger still.

Pearl laughs, but it’s distant, not quite with the whole force of her whole body. Now she’s thinking about her father and everything that she’s been denied. She sighs, looking down at her lap. Sometimes, she wishes she could just act up, let lose for one second, do something so terrible that he’ll have no choice but disown her. She’d be set free then.

It hits her then—it’s not nearly disown level, but there _is_ something they can do right this second that’ll make her feel better, make her feel like she’s getting back at him in a small way, a thing that will fit perfectly with their little sleepover.

“Hey... Do you guys wanna... go somewhere with me?”

They look at her, Three with a furrowed brow, Eight with open curiosity, and Marina eager, already willing to do whatever Pearl wants on this, the night of her first sleepover.

“You usually don’t leave during a sleepover,” Three says, “but we’re all adults here. What do you have in mind? It’s like two in the morning.”

Pearl grins and goes to dig in her bag. She crawls out from under the tent and drags it open. Under her skates and knee pads she finds her keys. She holds them up, jangles them once. “Let’s go to the mall. Get your skates.”

“Huh?” Three’s face morphs into open confusion. “ _Oh!_ ” she cries and then bolts to her knees, crawls out of their blanket fort, and darts toward the direction of her bedroom. Pearl hears her socked feet slip on the floor as she goes.

“What?” Eight and Marina demand together.

“My dad owns the mall.” Pearl clutches the keys tightly in her first and leans over so she can see them. “Let’s go skating.”

Marina’s face lights up. Eight, meanwhile, narrows her eyes.

“Is this illegal?”

Pearl holds her hand out. “I have the keys right here. No breaking and entering required.”

“C’mon Eight! Live a little!” Three thumps her fist against the top of the tent. She drops Eight’s skates right outside the entrance. “That mall is _huge_! Do you _know_ how fast we could go down those long hallways?”

That’s the thing that does it. Eight smiles then, a small thing, probably thinking about screaming down the halls as fast she can go. She’s just like Pearl, just like Marina, just like Three—wants to go so fast she feels like she’s flying.

“So, we all in?” Pearl asks.

“Hell yeah!”

“Fine.”

“I’m with you, Pearlie.”

The last comes from Marina, said quietly, right into her ear, and it gives Pearl goosebumps. She grins at them, at her friends, her hopefully soon-to-be girlfriend, her ride or dies, and she tosses the keys into the air and catches them.

“Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of of lawbreaking happening in my fics lately huh... 
> 
> I almost didn't make it to upload this in time because I got hecka distracted writing something else... But I made it! Big thanks to Katie for helping me figure out how to wrangle this chapter into submission. 
> 
> [Chapter title from here!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PIb6AZdTr-A)
> 
> Thank you so much for all the comments! :O I realized i hadn't replied to a few so I went ahead and did that. Sorry for spamming your inbox with replies that are like a month late... I'm trying my best out here. 
> 
> That said, comments and kudos are cherished and appreciated! They help me sleep at night...


	7. running away will never make me free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A crime (?) and a race.

Three lives a decent distance away from the city center, so they take the train to the mall (after swinging by Marina’s apartment so she can pick up her skates; Pearl, Three, and Eight stand outside and watch her disappear and then reappear, unable to really judge her apartment building in the gray of the early morning light). No one else is in their car except for a few exhausted teens, all of whom are buried deep in their phones. Still, Pearl huddles close to her friends, especially Marina, and they all watch the city lights fly by outside. There aren’t many people out, period, because it’s almost three in the morning on a Monday, and when they step off the train the station is mostly deserted. Pearl shoulders her backpack, heavy because of her skates, and leads the way.

This isn’t the first time she’s done this, all told. She had quite a few bad apples for friends when she was younger, before derby, and the only reason she has a key is because her father doesn’t like to get the police involved. It’s counter-intuitive, but, he told her years later, after the urge to commit crimes had left her, he’d hoped that giving her a key and permission to wander around the mall at any time would deter her from doing just that. And, on the whole, it worked. With permission given, the danger went away. But he never took the key back.

Since she’s done this before and because she knows that the cameras haven’t been changed in years (she checks every time she visits, casting curious glances up to take note of the angled lenses), she knows how to sneak them in without being seen. Security is lax this late at night, especially since there’s not been in a break-in in years (not so coincidentally, the last one was right before her father gave her the key), so she unlocks the glass door with barely a worry, her friends pressed close to her. She lets them in like they’re running a bank heist, waiving them through like _go go go_ and they all dive inside.

A set of benches just inside the door become their home base. They drop their bags and kick off their shoes. Once her skates are laced, Pearl pushes herself to her feet carefully and rolls a few feet, getting a feel for the floor.

The wooden floor of the rink is totally different from hard, concrete floors like those throughout the mall. The wood is bumpy, worn from countless pairs of skates, while the floor here is smooth, frictionless, hard, designed with longevity and cleaning in mind. Pearl’s skates slide like there’s nothing under them, unhindered by the even surface. She can feel the potential already, and she glances down the long hall, lined with shuttered and gated shops. It’s so long that she can’t see the end, where it curves around in an endless loop that countless shoppers march through every day. Really, this building is just a large rink with dangerous hard floors and obstacles. There’s a reason she’s always preferred this mall over Arowana (ignoring the fact that her family owns this one).

The lights are always on here in the halls because of security, so there’s no danger of it being dark. Still, Eight looks nervous as she gazes in the same direction as Pearl.

“This isn’t illegal, correct?”

Pearl waves her hand and makes a _psh_ sound. She’s not letting Eight be a buzzkill. “Nah, besides, the crime would be breaking in, which we’ve already done! Might as well enjoy the thrill now!” When Eight’s face morphs into one of abject horror and Three lets out a small _hey! It’s okay!_ and tries to comfort her, Pearl turns to Marina, who is moving her feet back and forth, feeling the floor, judging it, and holds out her hand.

“Once at leisurely pace?” Pearl asks with her most charming grin.

Marina takes her hand and laces their fingers together. “Let’s go!”

The first time around is just that: slow, gentle, as they get a feel for the floor and the layout of the kiosks in the middle of the halls. Because the mall is a large circle with only one crossover—the food court, right in the center—they skate steadily forward without having to adjust their speed or turn around. There are four sections of carpet, halfway between the food court and the outer curve of the mall on each side, which Pearl and Marina tackle by skating harder—if slower. The carpet is thin, meant more for a texture change than any sort of relief from the hard floor, so it only slows them down a little bit.

As they go, Marina watches ahead of them with a furrowed brow, focused on the unfamiliar surroundings, especially the kiosks taking up valuable real estate in the middle of the hall. They swerve around them with practiced ease, just like going around the grates on the derby track, and there’s only one mishap when they come across an extension cord that was left stretched across the hall. Pearl, too focused on watching Marina’s hair sway, didn’t see it and almost tripped. Luckily, Marina catches her easily, keeps their momentum going even as Pearl stumbles, and Pearl laughs at herself.

“Pay attention,” Marina teases.

“How can I?” Pearl returns, squeezing Marina’s hand. “You’re so distracting.”

Marina shakes her head, but Pearl can see a small smile on her face. It warms her through to see.

Really, Pearl should be exhausted right now. She hasn’t slept in two days (except for a short nap) and she had derby practice just a few hours ago, but skating energizes her. And, she’s starting to realize, Marina energizes her. Being around Marina is like a breath of fresh air, like dunking into ice cold water, refreshing and shocking (in a good way). She could probably stay up for days without problem, as long as she has Marina.

“You seem different,” Marina says as they continue forward, watching for the final carpeted section of the floor. “More relaxed. I like it.”

It’s Pearl’s turn to smile and she gives Marina her biggest grin. “I haven’t been able to relax like this in... Well... Ever! I’ve never been to a sleepover.”

Marina tugs Pearl to the right so they can go around a kiosk. “Me either,” she returns eventually, voice thoughtful.

It hits Pearl then that Marina isn’t from here. She knows it somewhere in the back of her brain, but Marina seems so _normal_ most of the time that it’s easy to forget. “Right,” she says, trying to keep her tone light. “What’s with that, anyway? I don’t know anything about Octo Valley.”

Marina sighs. “You’re better off not knowing. It’s not— It’s not like here. Let’s just say that there’s a reason Eight is terrified of getting caught doing illegal things.”

Pearl wants to ask, wants to probe deeper into that, but then they hit the carpet and she has to focus on her feet, on her lengthening stride, on the muscles in her legs as they push harder to keep up with Marina’s longer, stronger legs. Compared to the hard floor, the carpet is like skating through sludge, or through enemy ink, but it’s not impossible. Pearl can feel her legs burn, her lungs struggle, as she shoves as hard as she can to maintain her speed. The problem is that the wheels on her skates don’t roll, so it’s more like she’s running than skating.

Eventually, they get past it and land back on the smoothness of concrete. Previous conversation shelved, they complete their first rotation without a word and fall onto the benches to wait for Three and Eight, who are nowhere to be seen.

“Your family owns this place, right?” Marina asks as she tucks a long tentacle behind one ear. She’s sitting up on the bench, hands clutching it on either side of her legs, staring down at her feet as she flexes her ankle, stretching it slowly.

“My dad’s company, yeah,” Pearl answers. This isn’t the most high-end place in town—in fact, Pearl doesn’t do any of her shopping here anymore, not when she can hop over to The Reef or Arowana—but it’s a nice mall to visit if you want variety. It’s huge, with dozens of stores for various, mid-tier products. There’s no Toni Kensa, but any budget can find something fresh here, so it’s not all bad. Pearl really needs to find an excuse to trek out here more often, especially because her wardrobe was recently culled by over seventy-five percent and she’s sick of going designer.

“You’ve done this before,” Marina says. It’s not a question. She looks up from her stretches and hits Pearl with the full force of her knowing expression, eyebrows draw down into their perpetual half-moons.

“Let’s just say that before derby I had too much energy and nowhere to put it. Nothing like sticking it to the man when the man is your own father.”

Marina’s eyebrows drop further, drawing into a worried furrow. “I’m beginning to think this whole thing is actually about your father. I know you mentioned that he told you you can’t get out of this whole double life thing, but I never imagined...”

Pearl chuckles—a low, dry, unamused sound. “I’m assuming you don’t have parents, huh?”

Marina fidgets. “Not exactly, but it’s my understanding that they don’t control your whole life.”

“That’s true, but when you have as much as we do, image is important. Don’t get me wrong—my dad and I get along most of the time, but there were times when I was suffocating and the only way to find air was to break a few rules. He only notices explosions.” Pearl sighs and leans back, extends her legs, long and heavy, so she can flex her foot like Marina. Suddenly, she feels very tired. “It’s like this: my family is old and when you’re born into it, you belong to it. You become an asset. My dad loves me, but he’s always been preparing me for what I’m doing now—all this cutesy, family ambassador stuff. I’m becoming the face of the family because mine is more bearable than his, at least according to him.”

Marina looks back down at her feet. “That seems lonely. A person shouldn’t be a symbol.”

Her voice is quiet and Pearl scoots close. She lays her hand carefully on top of Marina’s. “Hey, I’m working it out. You made me realize what that shit was doing to me, and I’m figuring it out. Let’s talk about something else, okay?”

Marina turns her hand over and laces their fingers together. “Like what?”

Pearl gins a grin that’s all teeth, the one her father hates. “Like how I’m gonna _cream_ you when we race! I hope you’re not a sore loser because I’m about to destroy you—”

“Don’t forget,” Marina cuts in, she leans in close, close enough that Pearl can see the fibers in her shirt. “Loser kisses winner.”

Pearl’s grin widens further, and she pivots so that she’s facing Marina fully. She reaches up to put a hand on the back of Marina’s neck. “Yeah? Why does someone have to _lose_ for us to kiss, huh?”

Marina smiles at her in return, but hers is soft. “They don’t, but this keeps things interesting.”

“What if I just kissed you right now?”

“I thought you wanted to get yourself all sorted out before we went any further.”

Pearl looks up at her, at Marina’s large eyes and the concerned stretch of her mouth. “I did,” she says. “I do. I just... You called it motivation—us kissing, I mean. And I think... It’s working.”

Marina’s mouth rises into a small, troubled smile. “So, we keep kissing but don’t get together?”

Pearl pulls back. “What? Hell _no_! If I could, I’d ask you right now! I’d make it official! But it’s not fair to drag you into this mess I’m in without figuring it all out first and— And!” Pearl grabs Marina’s hands as tight as she can. “We have this big match coming up and—” She lets out a breath. “Things are just so complicated right now. I want to start things _right_ with you. If— If you want, we can stop kissing and slow things down again. I’m just glad I get to spend time with you.”

Marina doesn’t say anything for a long beat and Pearl can feel panic manifest in her gut. Did she say something wrong? What if—

“It’d be mean of me to take away your motivation,” Marina finally says, squeezing her hands back. “Especially because... I like it too. I just wanted to make sure—”

Immediately, Pearl heats up with shame. Is that what Marina thinks? That she’s not interested in taking things further? In making things serious? “Fuck, Reena, I like you a lot! I’m not just _using_ you—”

“I know! I know,” Marina cuts in before Pearl can get riled up. A good thing too—Pearl was beginning to get angry at herself. “I just wanted to get on the same foot. I like you too, Pearlie. I want to make sure we understand each other.”

“Okay.” Pearl looks down at their hands, takes in the sight, the sensations, and breathes out slowly. “Okay, look: as soon as I get this figured out, you’re the first person I’m calling. I’ll ask you out properly and we’ll go on a dates and we’ll tell everyone! Until then...”

“Until then,” Marina fills in, “loser kisses winner.”

Pearl laughs. “Okay, I can live with that.”

“Me too, but... You should put your hand back on my neck...” Marina demonstrates by grabbing Pearl’s hand and doing just that. “Because I’m pretty sure I won earlier. I saved you from falling.”

“Oh, I see how it is!” Pearl’s other arm comes up to match its twin. “Well, we had an agreement and I ain’t a quitter so!”

She pulls Marina down so she can kiss her, and Marina smiles into it. Marina’s hand comes up to cup Pearl’s jaw and she holds her in place as this kiss goes a little deeper than the others, lasts a little longer. Pearl feels Marina’s body near hers like static electricity, with all of her pent up, excited atoms. _Fuck_ , she’s not sure how she’s supposed to hold it all together until she gets her life sorted out. She wants to beg Marina to be her girlfriend _right now_ —

“Will you two _please_ get a room?” a familiar, _annoying_ (in Pearl’s opinion) voice demands. Marina, startled, pulls away, which makes Pearl immediately cold. Her hands fall as Marina disengages and Pearl lets out a loud groan.

“You ruin _everything_!” She points right at Three, who’s standing there looking smug with Eight right next to her, holding tight to her hand.

“Well _excuse me_! Last I heard, you two weren’t even a _thing_ , yet you’re macking all over each other like you’re gonna die if you don’t! I thought we were doing crimes, not creating oxytocin!”

“I was told this wasn’t illegal,” Eight says ominously. She looks to Marina, but Marina looks way too mortified to hear her.

“It’s not!” Pearl and Three cry at once. Then, Pearl continues, “Man, you _know_ how much Marina and I like each other and you’re still gonna interrupt? Some friend.”

“Payback for that time you almost outed us to Callie and Marie.”

“You were _making out under the bleachers_ and they were _right there_! You needed a wake-up call.”

“And you’re _making out_ in the middle of an adrenaline-fueled crime—”

“Not a crime! Breaking and entering is breaking in _by force_ , and I have a key! Stop scaring Eight! She looks like she’s about to piss herself!”

“Can we—” Marina cuts in, hands covering her face. “Can we _please_ just skate or race or _something_?”

“Fine!” Three and Pearl cry.

Eight and Three skate off, trying to scout a good starting line marker, and Pearl scoots close to Marina again. “You okay? Three and Eight are harmless, you know that.”

Marina leans over and hides her face in Pearl’s shoulder. “I know,” she says, muffled by Pearl’s shirt and skin. “A lot’s happened today. I’m sorry for letting that kiss get out of hand.”

Pearl rubs her thumb on Marina’s leg. “Don’t be sorry. It was— Marina, don’t _ever_ apologize for kissing me, okay?”

Marina laughs then and Pearl can feel it vibrate against her skin. “Okay!”

+++

Eventually, Three and Eight decide to use the front corner of a nearby kiosk as a starting line and they line up, shoulder to shoulder, jostling each other for fun. “Three laps,” Pearl says. “Keep your hands to yourself. If you grab anyone, you’re disqualified. Keep it clean.”

“Yeah yeah,” Three mutters. “Let’s _go_! The sun’s gonna come up soon.”

“Fine. Eight, you count it off. You’re fair.”

Eight grins, all hang ups gone now that they’re finally doing what they came here to do: skate as fast as they can. She leans forward and breathes out once before calling, “ _Ready...”_

Pearl leans as well. She’s at her fastest when she’s at her smallest, when she’s all aerodynamic lines and her center of gravity is lower. They don’t have their helmets, but no one should get hurt here, in this friendly match. Besides, this isn’t a derby; they’re just skating in three giant circles in wide hallways. They shouldn’t come in contact with each other.

“ _Set_...”

Next to her, the long line of Marina’s body bends as she follows everyone else’s lead. On the other side of Eight, Three is also bent double, ready to kick off. They’re a quad of bodies, folded in half, coiled with potential energy. The fatigue that was beginning to settle under Pearl’s skin evaporates as she angles her foot to plant her toe brake, prepared to kick off as hard as she can. Her legs are tight, muscles ready, and her world narrows to just the floor in front of her as she rocks forward. Eight breathes out again and Pearl can practically feel the starting signal ring through her whole body.

“ _Go!_ ”

They blast forward, slamming their skates into the ground and pushing off as hard as they can. A couple yards later and they all fall into their individual rhythms—Marina with her long, concentrated strides, Three with smaller, quicker movements because she’s used to skating in the pack, Eight with a jagged, running momentum, and Pearl with her reaching, stretched legs, low to the ground, arms tucked close to her sides like a speed skater. Her form isn’t the best for the jostle of the pack, but when she’s caught in middle of all those elbows and knees, she becomes a bull, shoulders squared, pushing, pushing, pushing until she breaks free. Here, in the freedom of a race, where everyone spreads out to avoid kiosks, she can push, push, push for another reason: pure, blinding speed. Here, she becomes one with her body, feels it melt into itself, loses track of all of her fingers and her hips and her chest and her neck, and becomes nothing more than a pair of pushing feet, a hovering, zooming presence of pure movement.

This is a long race though, so she reins in it a little. Three easily pulls ahead because she’s always been like that—early lead means forever lead—and Pearl watches as she leaps a bench, morphing into squid form as she flies over just for flair, and then lands right back on her feet. She looks back with eyes only for Eight, and her face is bright, an impossibly large grin nearly splitting it in half. Eight, a couple feet behind her, swerves around the bench, probably a force of habit, and Three laughs, loud and high, like the chime of a bell.

Marina sticks close to Pearl as they watch their friends jostle for first place. Eight gains the lead briefly because Three nearly trips when she gets too close to a kiosk and it clips her side, but Three easily takes it back, moving her legs as fast as she can. Marina, meanwhile, shoots Pearl these sideways, squinty looks, like she’s trying to make sure that Pearl doesn’t get too far away from her. Pearl isn’t sure if she’s trying to juke or intimidate her or if she’s really just that focused, but she doesn’t let it get to her. Instead, she focuses back on her feet, on the ground, on her body.

The first patch of carpet is uneventful. As four derby players, they treat it like enemy ink and take leaping, running strides to get through it easily. Pearl loses ground here because she has the shortest legs, and when they get back to the concrete, Marina glances back and calls: “ _C’mon Pearlie!_ ” and then something in a language Pearl can’t understand. Eight lets out a loud, harsh chuckle, so Pearl figures that it probably wasn’t very polite.

With Marina’s voice in her ears, Pearl puts her head down and does what she does best: skates fast, drawing her body into a ball and sliding her heavy feet, and passes everyone.

As she takes the lead, they sail by the food court, where all of the food stalls are shuttered and the merry-go-round sits stationary, its cheery seahorses stuck in static poses of movement—their stationary heads caught in a perpetual toss, tails curled and uncurled, mouths opened. It reminds her, for a second, of how it felt in her house with her father, where she had to freeze in various unfamiliar poses, dressed in uncomfortable clothes, bounce in that perpetual circle, performing for the benefit of others—her father, his associates, her family’s image. All she wanted, she realizes now, was to break free of that rail, of the forever circling, to be free to explore the world beyond.

“Catch up with us, Pearl!” she hears. Three, familiar, steadfast Three, yells as she glides past, looking at Pearl with a worried gaze, eyebrows pulled down. Pearl shakes her head, realizes that she’s been coasting for a good couple yards, eyes locked on the merry-go-round, riding out her speed as her mind gets lost somewhere else. She looks back at her feet and floors it, punching the ground with her skates as she wings herself back into the running. She passes Eight, Marina, and then Three—not because she wants the lead yet but because she wants to _go_ , to soar, to fly. As fast as she can.

Her lungs burn and her legs ache the good ache, but the air is cool and sharp when she’s going this fast. She lets out a loud whoop as she goes faster than she ever has, here on this long straightaway with no obstacles, no curves, just space and more space. She’s never felt this free, never felt this in touch with herself. Nothing else exists except this: going as fast as she can for as long as she can, legs disappearing into the rest of her body as she sails beyond the clutch of this life she finds herself in. For a couple seconds, she’s just Pearl, not Hime, not Houzuki, not the derby girl or the rich girl. She’s the _skater_ , the blistering speed junkie, a streak of pink that has no physical form.

Pearl throws her fists up and coasts again, soars forward with just her speed, legs straight, enjoying the sensation of so much forward momentum. She looks back, sees how far she’s broken away, sees Marina, moving her legs in their longest stride to catch up, Three and Eight flanking her on either side. Pearl grins at them and it’s the freest she’s ever felt.

“We’re coming!” Three cries, laughing. “Take it easy a little! There’s two more laps!”

Pearl laughs in return and throws her hands up in a giant shrug. “I’ll deal with those later!”

+++

The first and second laps continue like this. They jostle back and forth, sometimes darting forward just to keep things interesting. Marina takes the lead on most of the carpeted sections because she has the longest legs, but for the most part she stays solidly in last place. She’s clearly pacing herself, falling back to let the others duke it out and wear themselves out. For the most part it works because Three and Eight are competitive with each other, so as soon as Pearl places herself back into third they slingshot back and forth, trading the lead like a hot potato.

Every now and then, Pearl shoots into the lead just to keep things interesting, but otherwise she stays in third and loses herself to the rhythm of her feet. She tries to keep her mind firmly in the moment, but occasionally she finds herself thinking back to that carousel. Her life is like that, circling, circling, circling, with a bunch of voids and places she tries to fill. And she traded that circling for the circling of the derby track, where she’s allowed to be violent and the opposite of everything she was born to be. Yet, here she is, still circling, but going as fast as she can, wearing her body out, and she’s finally figuring it out.

She needs to be this: the Pearl that’s disconnected from it all, the Pearl that adores Marina, that admires Three and Eight, that breaks rules, that isn’t caught up in the melodrama of being the Houzuki heiress _or_ the jammer on her derby team. She needs to quit playacting.

She needs to let go.

“ _Pearl!_ ” Three calls again—and isn’t that just like Three. Three, Pearl’s best friend, the one person who’s been there for _years_ , tagging along with all of Pearl’s misadventures, talking her through the tough moments, throwing her slumber parties and breaking into the mall with her without a second thought. All this time, Pearl’s been looking outward, trying to find her place, when it’s always been right here, with her friends, with Three, and Eight, and now Marina. They’re the ones who see her for who she is, look right through the acts and pin her down the soul.

“ _Earth to Pearl!”_ Pearl jerks and comes back to herself, to this moment of freedom, of speed and peace, and sees her friends looking back at her as they coast, waiting for her to catch back up.

Pearl grins to herself. She scrunches down, throws her weight forward, slams her feet down, one after the other, and catches up.

+++

The third lap is easily the tensest. No more holding back. As soon as they pass the starting line, Marina kicks into full blast, like a bat out of hell. She sparks forward, using the full length of her stride, arms swinging forward for counterbalance. For a second, Pearl is struck dumb by the shock of it, by the beautiful, graceful moments, but then Three yells a wordless sound of shock and she and Eight follow Marina’s lead, speeding up to match her.

Pearl, left in the dust, can only laugh, breath in deep, chest tight with fatigue, and jump back in.

She matches Marina’s speed easily, meeting her one stride with two of her own, and they hold the lead together, barely edging each other out in a constant battle of back and forth. When they land on carpet, Pearl spins herself through the air, kicking off as hard as she can, bounces off a bench, spirals into squid form just for fun, and somehow keeps up with Marina despite her clear advantage.

Halfway through the lap now and Pearl is finally starting to feel the effects of the day and all this skating on her body. Her limbs are starting to fill with lead and her chest is tightening. She feels like she can’t get a deep enough breath. But Marina seems fine, unaffected, probably because she took it easy during the first two laps. She’s smart, cunning, quiet, and it strikes Pearl then that having Marina as a friend—and something more—is a blessing; she’s a good person, with her silent smarts, to have on your side.

Pearl’s whole body is buzzing when they reach the final carpeted section of the match and she can feel her body starting to disengage. Her legs are jelly, like a tiny squid just learning to walk, but she can’t give up now. She’s worked so hard for all of this—all she has to do is hit one more burst of speed on the straightaway. The carpet puts her behind, but she easily catches up, swinging her arms as fast as she can.

She kicks, pushes off as hard as her legs can handle, adjusts her rhythm to be longer, harder, lower, and Marina disappears from her peripheral. Eight lets out a small sound, a concerned, scared one, as if she knows exactly how exhausted Pearl is, or perhaps she’s never seen anyone go this fast before.

Pearl focuses forward, ignores how tired she is, and squares her vision on the benches where their stuff is. Just past them is the finish line. It’s _right there_ —

Something jerks her arm. She spins, drawn into a rapid spiral, and slams with her back against the far wall. The wind is knocked out of her and she slumps to the ground, feeling exactly like she just slammed into a brick wall (which she did). She blacks out for a second.

“Pearl, oh _crap_ , I’m so sorry! But—”

A pair of hands grab her head and she blinks her eyes open and looks up, past the spots decorating her vision, to see Marina’s beautiful face and her squirming hair. She blinks away the stars, wondering when she developed the spontaneous ability to see the night’s sky. “Wha—?”

“Get down and shut up!” another voice hisses, and it takes Pearl three long seconds to place it as Eight’s. Another set of hands land on her arm, and she carefully cranks her head to the side. Three is kneeling next to her, mouth in a grim line, breathing hard from all the fast skating, and she holds a finger up to her lips.

Never very good at following directions, Pearl blurts, “What the _fuck_ just happened—”

Three makes a quiet hushing sound and covers Pearl’s mouth with both of her hands. “Be _quiet_! Security is here, look!” She moves one hand—leaves the other—and points past the kiosk they’re using as cover. Pearl cranes her throbbing head, forcing Three to remove her other hand, and blinks hard once. The sparks disappear as adrenaline hits her system. Two men in dark uniforms are poking around their benches, looking around for ID. Luckily, they were smart enough to leave their wallets at Three’s apartment so there’s nothing to be found, but Pearl still feels a touch of fear.

“Okay.” She breathes out. “Do you think they called the police?”

“No telling,” Eight mutters. She’s a few feet away, pressed tight against the side of the kiosk so she can peer around. “We have to get our bags and get out of here.”

“Fuck the bags,” Pearl groans. Her head is throbbing, and she’s annoyed as hell. This is the second time she’s blacked out in so many weeks. “What _hit_ me...”

“That was me,” Marina says sheepishly. “I grabbed your arm and kinda... threw you toward the wall. I’m so, so sorry, Pearl! I didn’t think you’d hit it _that_ hard.”

“I said hands were illegal,” Pearl cracks, and leans her head back against the wall. “How’d you know they were there?”

“We heard them,” Eight says. “It’s a good thing Marina reacted so quickly. You would have skated right into them.”

Pearl grins a small grin. “Like they’d be able to catch me.”

“Probably not, but they’d recognize you. Your dad is already pissed about all this. Imagine how he’d be if he found out you broke into the mall again,” Three whispers, reaching up to check Pearl’s head for any bleeding. She touches a tender spot in the back, sending a spike of pain through Pearl’s whole body, and Pearl hisses. “No bleeding,” Three says, voice all relief.

“ _Fuck_ my dad,” Pearl says with as much feeling as she can.

“All right, but imagine if they recognized you and then saw Marina or Eight? Or me? It’d get back to Callie and Marie and then we’d be fucked sideways. _No fraternization,_ remember?”

“What’s so fraternizing about four friends breaking into a mall on Monday morning to skate around?”

All three of her friends set Pearl with a set of hard, exasperated glares. “All right, I get it. What are we gonna do? We can’t leave our bags. Too much evidence.”

“I have a plan,” Marina says, and Pearl looks just in time to see her yank off her skates and socks. “Eight, do you remember—”

“Yeah,” Eight answers, and pulls her skates off as well. “I’ll follow your lead. You were on the wasabi unit, after all.”

Three sighs. “Don’t hurt anyone. They’re just doing their jobs.”

Eight grimaces but doesn’t answer. Meanwhile, Marina sends her a small smile. “Never. You want in?”

Three shakes her head and places a hand on Pearl’s leg. “Nah, I’m retired. I’ll keep Pearl safe.”

“Wait, what the _fuck_ is going on?” Pearl demands.

“Marina and Eight are gonna do octoling things. You just sit still. I think you have a concussion.”

Pearl is still woozy and confused, so that’s probably the case. “But _you_ —”

Three sends Eight a grim glance and scoots so that she’s sitting next to Pearl. “I used to help octolings escape to the city. That’s all. I haven’t done it for a few years though, not since I started derby. We’ll talk about it later. First, we have to get out of here, okay?”

For some reason, that doesn’t surprise Pearl at all. Three has always been a little off, like she’s seen too much, and her single-minded dedication to her friends seems to be a by-product of that. She’s loyal to death and does everything she can to protect and help; it makes sense that she would do something as selfless as helping octolings.

“All right,” Marina creeps close to the kiosk in a squat, and she glances around the corner. “I’ll get the bags. You distract them.”

“You got it, boss.”

Eight rolls out from behind the kiosk and to her feet. “ _Hey_!” she calls, and Pearl sees the guards turn. Then, Eight darts away, running as fast as her legs can move, leading them away from her friends.

As they pound past, Marina turns to Three and Pearl and gives them a warm smile. “I’ll be right back.”

Pearl watches her leap away and groans, leaning her head back. Somehow, none of this surprises her though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit the kudos button if you think I should let Pearl SLEEP... 
> 
> If you didn't see Three being an agent coming then you clearly haven't read my other stuff... I'm PREDICTABLE.
> 
> Apologies for the wait for this chapter. I was busy working on a different story and dealing with life stuff. Plus, this chapter was a doozy to write because of all the action, but it was a blast! I had a ton of fun working on it! 
> 
> Chapter title from [here!](https://youtu.be/gE1AmjFoQgo)
> 
> I'm terrible at responding to comments, but thank you SO MUCH to everyone who commented on the last chapter! I'm gonna reply to this soon (over a month late), but just know that I read all of them and they kept me going when things got tough! :D!
> 
> Comments and kudos are cherished! <3


	8. we are in for a long night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Concussions, escapes, car rides, and realizations.

Pearl is still woozy, so she just sits there, staring up at the ceiling, while Eight runs off down the hallway—Pearl can hear her yelling at the guards, goading them into following her—and Marina steals away to grab their bags and shoes. Three sits close, one hand on Pearl’s knee, and looks pensively back and forth, trying to watch for more guards. Pearl isn’t sure what she plans on doing if one shows up; it’s not like they can run away. Pearl is pretty sure she has a concussion—she’s had one before because of derby, hid it from her father for a week, and it was _exactly_ like this, down to the wooziness and the impossibly strong urge to vomit.

“How you doing, Pearl?” Three asks out of the side of her mouth.

Pearl lolls her head toward her, swiveling it on her neck, and feels a twinge in the back of her brain. “...Concussed.”

Three winces. “Just don’t fall asleep.”

That reminds her—she _is_ really tired, doubly so now that her brain has suffered blunt force trauma. _Fuck_ , it’s been like ten years since she’s slept hasn’t it?

“ _Pearl_ ,” Three shakes her leg, and Pearl’s head jerks up; her eyes snap open. When did she close them? “ _Don’t sleep_. I’m serious. We have to get out of here. Then, we’ll take you to the hospital and—”

“ _No!_ ” Pearl hisses. “Noooo, no, no, no hospitals. They’ll recognize me.”

“You have a _concussion_.”

“It’s fiiiiiine.” Pearl waves her hand and sees it double right in front of her. “Huh,” she says, and brings it up to her face to make sure that she’s just seeing things. When her palm makes contact with her face only once, she nods to herself.

“All right,” Three mutters, and Pearl looks up at see her with the most incredulous expression she’s ever seen. “You’re _definitely_ going to the emergency room.”

“Hey, I don’t think you get to decide _anything_ , Ms. I-Lie-To-My-Friends! You were like, a vigilante, weren’t you? That’s cool...”

Three places one hand against her forehead, as if Pearl is giving her a giant headache. “I helped liberate octolings from an oppressive— Y’know what? This isn’t the time and you probably won’t remember this anyway. Just relax. _Don’t sleep_ —” she adds and shakes Pearl’s leg again.

Pearl grumbles but doesn’t argue, mostly because her head is throbbing and it hurts to move her mouth to talk.

They sit like that, waiting, and Pearl has this sense that there’s an action scene happening around them that they can’t see. Every couple seconds, Pearl hears Eight’s voice or a crash, like she knocked over a trash can or a bench down the hall, and she cranes her head toward Marina, trying to see what’s going on with her. She can just see her, crouched behind a planter close to the benches, scoping out the area. Eventually, she must decide that it’s safe because she stands, still hunched over, and creeps toward their bags, bare feet silent on the hard floor.

Meanwhile, Three scoots forward and picks at the knots on Pearl’s skates. She yanks the laces free and removes one skate, then the other, then hands them to Pearl. “Can you tie them together?”

Pearl stares down at the skates, at the laces, past the stars that are reappearing her vision, and reaches for them. Her brain, full of pressure, is slow to respond, and she struggles to loop the laces, struggles to get her fingers to cooperate. She’s done this countless times, yet it’s like she’s fresh and new to these fingers, to these skates, but she can’t find it in herself to be frustrated. She’s too tired and woozy and can’t think beyond this moment, with its tension and the clear fear in Three’s body language. But, Pearl also can’t find it in herself to be afraid, because what’s the worst that could happen? Her dad could find out, but what’s one more disappointment on top of this whole week?

At least one good thing came from this: Pearl found out what it was like to _let go_ , to remove herself from all her problems and to just feel her body, to just be with friends, to break the rules, to fly.

Marina manages to grab all the bags, body stooped with the weight of them, plus their shoes—four pairs of sneakers and three backpacks and one large shoulder bag—and slowly crab walks back toward them. Really, they aren’t hidden at all, what with Pearl just sitting against the wall, listless, and Three tugging her skates off her own feet, with only a kiosk between them and the rest of the mall. Anyone who walks toward them at the correct angle will notice them.

Marina makes it back easily and deposits their things near Pearl’s feet. Three quickly digs through the pile and extracts Pearl’s shoes, which she shoves onto her feet roughly, crouching right in front of her.

“You’re like a super-secret agent, huh?” Pearl whispers in Marina’s direction. She’s standing there, watching with her bottom lip between her teeth, clearly worried about Pearl’s limp form against the wall.

“That would be Three, actually,” Marina says. Three grunts but doesn’t reply. She ties Pearl’s laces way too tight, but Pearl can’t find it in herself to care.

That is precisely the moment when Pearl spots a strange, moving shadow right behind Marina. It’s the shape and size of an inkling in a uniform with the pointed cap, and she feels her eyes widen. But her brain is too slow; it can’t put the words together, can’t warn Marina, and she only gets as far as cranking her jaw open with a single syllable of warning forming on her tongue before everything goes to shit.

A hand lands on Marina’s shoulder. “You girls are in a _lot_ of trouble,” a man’s voice says, and then it doesn’t say anything else, because Marina _jerks_. She moves like a charger shot, flicks her arms up, grabs the wrist of the hand on her shoulder, and _heaves_ —flips the whole man over her body without conscious effort, and slams him into the ground on his back.

He lands with a great thud, an _oof_ , and then a groan. Marina, immediately coming back to herself, lets out a small squeak of alarm and covers her mouth. “Oh!” she cries. “I’m _so_ sorry! You scared me! Are you okay?!”

Her hands, those same dangerous hands that delivered him to this position, come out anxiously, as if she wants to check him over for injury, but then suddenly Three is there. She grabs Marina’s wrist and holds her there.

“Get your shoes on,” she says as she looks down at the man. He’s winded but clearly not that hurt. Belatedly, Pearl thinks that it’s probably the shock of being fuckin’ _flipped_ by a woman half his size. Three continues, “He won’t be down for long. We need to get out of here. Can you carry Pearl?”

“Hey...!” Pearl cries, and then winces when her head twinges and more stars spark to life in her vision. “I can walk!”

“Like hell,” Three replies, blunt, and drops to yank her shoes on. Next to her, Marina does the same. “We gotta move fast, and we don’t have time for you to stumble around. Marina?”

Marina nods and sends Pearl a small, strained smile. “It’s okay, Pearlie. I won’t drop you.”

Pearl is struck dumb for a second, and the reality of everything that just happened hits her like a blocker at full speed. Marina just _dropped_ a man like it was no big deal, _apologized_ , and now is trying to reassure _Pearl._ She keeps looking at Pearl like she’s going to break at any second, but Pearl keeps staring at the security guard, groaning on the ground. He’ll get up soon, and Pearl knows that that means that they need to move, but all she can think about is Marina’s body, those long arms, the strength lying just under her skin, the long motion lines of her arms and torso, all the way to her legs as she yanked him up and over. It’s... It’s the hottest thing she’s ever seen, and she’s _way_ too concussed to handle it. She’s probably not going to remember it fully this time tomorrow, and that makes her feel a little empty because that was _badass,_ and she wants to see it _again_ and—

Her concussion is definitely getting to her. She needs to get up and move around or something. She can’t stand this; she feels itchy now, like she needs to _do_ something because Marina and Three are both doing stuff and they have this dangerous, anxious energy about them and they keep looking at her like she’s fragile and sure she’s not some super-agent but she’s not made of _glass._ She can take care of herself.

She tries to stand, she does, but her feet slip out from under her and she lands right back on her ass. Marina lets out a small noise of fear and practically teleports to her side while Three glances over, glaring. She doesn’t say anything though, probably because she knows that Pearl is stubborn. Pearl glares right back, past Marina’s fussing hands, and Three sends her the bird and then goes back to stuffing their skates into their bags.

That brings Pearl back to herself. Her head is still full of pressure and the stars in her vision are dancing now, but she feels more in control of herself and of her surroundings. Her body is finally starting to come back online.

“I’m going to pick you up, okay?” Marina is saying, done with her fussing over Pearl’s health. Her hands hover over her, as if she doesn’t want to touch her or hurt her further. She clearly feels guilty because she’s the one who flung Pearl into the wall in the first place, but Pearl doesn’t blame her. She had to do what had to be done.

“Reena,” she mutters around her creaking, aching head. “I trust you.”

Marina nods and scoots closer. “Wrap your arms around my neck. I’m going to put my arms under your legs and back.”

“Bridal style, cute,” Pearl cracks, but Marina clearly isn’t listening. She’s too focused on bracing her arms, hooking them carefully under Pearl’s knees and armpit. Pearl quickly—or as quickly as she can, with her delayed reaction times—loops her arms around Marina’s bowed neck.

“Would it be easier if I was a squid?” Pearl asks as she feels Marina’s muscles begin to flex.

Marina pauses. “Can you?”

She has a point. Pearl’s head is throbbing in time with the beat of her hearts and she’s not sure if she can get herself together enough to change forms, to metaphorize and completely rearrange her organs and squish her brain into a different shape. She closes her eyes and tries, just for the hell of it, and receives feedback so loud and angry from every nerve in her head that she gasps and tightens her hold on Marina’s neck.

“ _Nnnnnngh_ ,” she groans, head spinning. “No, nope. No way. This is all I got.”

Marina breathes out quietly. “Thought so. Okay, hang on.”

She stands easily, as if Pearl doesn’t weigh anything. Her arms barely strain as she takes on Pearl’s whole weight, and she doesn’t stumble, just climbs to her feet like a fortified statue.

“Rest your head on my chest,” Marina orders softly. Pearl quickly obliges because her head is way too heavy, and she ends up with her ear pressed to the top of Marina’s chest, between her hearts and her head, with her arms still wrapped around her neck for safety.

Three finishes with the skates right as Marina stands and she grimaces at them. “Okay, good. We should concuss Pearl more often. She actually listens.”

Pearl feels indignation flare up on her tongue, but she’s way too comfortable where she is to agitate herself. She can hear Marina’s hearts and it’s surprisingly relaxing to be held like this. Damn concussion.

“Where’s Eight?” Marina asks, and one of her tentacles slides forward as she glances down the hall.

“She’s coming.” Three points, and Marina shifts so that she can see better. Pearl just spots Eight’s lithe form, running full speed right toward them. She leaps a bench with the full length of her legs and picks up even more speed as soon as she lands.

When she arrives, she’s breathing hard and Three pushes her shoes at her. “Let’s go,” Three orders.

At their feet, the security guard is finally getting his second wind. He groans and begins to shift.

“Aww!” Eight cries when she sees him. “Marina got to knock one out? I just locked the others in the security office!”

Three rolls her eyes and tosses two of the bags at Eight. They land at her feet. “Hurry up. We gotta go. He’s waking up.”

Eight grumbles but shoves her feet into her shoes and grabs up both of the bags. “Is that everything?”

“Four bags, four pairs of shoes, all the skates, and Pearl,” Three answers. 

Pearl almost doesn’t hear her, she’s so comfortable. She can feel herself falling asleep. “Hey!” she calls weakly, belated.

“Yep, we got it all. Let’s go.”

+++

They get out of the mall without problem. There aren’t any other guards poking around, so they just waltz out and then Pearl has to remind Three to lock the doors behind them. “Less evidence that way,” Pearl mumbles as Three digs around in her bag for the keys. After she fishes them out and clicks the lock, they begin the long trek back to the train and Three’s apartment, laughing together because they actually got away with it.

“So, who won?” Marina asks, looking down at Pearl where she’s dozing against her chest. The sound of her hearts is relaxing, and her gait is smooth, with a small rocking motion, so it gets Pearl into the perfect headspace to fall asleep.

“Does it matter?” Three grumbles. “We were almost arrested.”

“I was told this wasn’t illegal,” Eight repeats from earlier, “and yet I had to lock two grown men in their own office.”

That makes Three loosen up a little and Pearl just sees her nudge her hip into Eight’s. “Aw, c’mon. You liked it. I saw you grinning.”

Eight rolls her eyes and doesn’t reply, but Pearl can see her small smile.

“I won,” Pearl mumbles as she lets her head fall back, eyes closing. “I got the closest to the finish line.”

“Yeah, but Marina saved your life!” Three calls.

“I also threw her into a wall...” Marina sighs. “Let’s give this one to Pearl.”

Pearl smiles and snuffles her face into the fabric of Marina’s shirt. “Loser kisses winner,” she whispers, so that only Marina can hear.

Marina laughs and it rumbles through her chest like slow moving thunder. “Later, when you’re not so...”

“Concussed?”

Marina laughs again and nods.

They walk through the parking lot, Pearl slipping further and further into sleep with every step, and she’s almost completely out when they round the block. The train station is ahead of them, along with the promise of bed, as long as she can keep herself out of the hospital. She doesn’t need it. She can go to the doctor tomorrow, after she sleeps.

Three and Eight are talking quietly amongst themselves, weighed down by two bags and two pairs of skates each, but they don’t seem bothered. They’ve easily shrugged off this whole ordeal and are instead talking about the race, about how they jumped the benches and how they found their way through the carpet. Marina speaks quietly to them, trying not to bother Pearl, and soon enough, their words turn to pleasant, soothing background noise. Her eyes slide closed and she loses herself, completely content in Marina’s arms.

She dozes and dreams of home, of her old bedroom, of her first pair of skates, of the first time she saw Marina, way back at the derby match. She hears the voices of her friends, and that of her father, calling her name. She dreams of countless derby matches, all melded together into a montage of skating, speeding as quickly as she can around the pack. She dreams of Marina, smiling at her, Three jostling people away, Eight slipping around a grate.

“ _Hime!_ ” calls the voice of her childhood. Her father is inside her brain, crawling through the folds, calling to her, calling her home, and she wakes just enough to press her face further into the fabric of Marina’s shirt.

“ _Fuck!”_ Three’s voice says next, and she feels something jostle her leg. “Pearl, wake up!”

She jolts, jumps in Marina’s arms, and Marina tightens her hold so that she doesn’t fall.

“ _Wha_?”

They haven’t moved far; the train station is still down the block. But Eight and Three are standing tall in front of Marina and Pearl, between them and the road, as if ready for attack. Pearl peers blearily past them, blinks heavily, and her vision finally clears.

Her father’s face looks back at her, framed by the window of one of his expensive SUVs. He’s at the wheel, which is unusual, and his face is neutral, flat, which means that he’s upset. He always believed that no emotion is the best emotion, especially when one is upset about something. She tightens her arms around Marina’s neck.

“Fancy running into you girls here,” he calls, and that makes Pearl bristle. She’s _so_ sick of being called a _girl_ — She’s a grown woman, damnit! And so are her friends!

“Put me down, Marina,” Pearl says, voice emotionless, falling into the old Houzuki flatness.

“But—”

“Please Reena.”

Marina sighs but does as she’s bid. She sets Pearl carefully on her feet but remains close. When Pearl takes a few steps and stumbles, Marina is there to catch her. She steps close and grabs Pearl’s arm, wraps it carefully around her own hip. “Let me hold you up,” she says. “Use me as a crutch.”

Pearl smiles up at her, grateful, and leans most of her weight into Marina’s strong form. They shuffle forward, past Three and Eight, who shadow them like angry bodyguards, and cross the street.

“Hey Dad,” Pearl mutters.

“Get in,” he says, and clicks the lock on the doors. “Let me give you a ride home. It’s not safe for you girls to be out this late.”

That makes Pearl laugh. It thunders out of her chest and rattles her poor, abused head, exciting her headache into a frenzy. She leans a little harder into Marina. Between her three secret agent friends, Pearl’s probably the safest she’ll ever be.

Pearl glances back at Three, whose face is unreadable, and then up at Marina, who is merely glaring at Pearl’s father. Right, they’re not the biggest fans of his right now. But Pearl can’t really think of a way out of this situation. It’s clear that he knows exactly where they were, but she doesn’t want to drag her friends into this. They don’t deserve to suffer for her mistake.

“Fine,” she mutters, and tries to step away from Marina. “I’ll go with you. You guys go back to Three’s. I’ll see you—”

Marina claps a hand down on Pearl’s, holding her arm in place. “No, I’m coming too.”

“Me too,” Eight says.

“Me three!” Three adds, then breaks off to laugh at her own self-pun.

Her laugh gives Pearl strength. If she can relax and make jokes, then maybe this isn’t as bad as it seems. She sighs, but she’s too tired, too shattered, too in pain to argue. Plus, she really could use the support, especially because she knows that her father is about to hit her with a lot of word games.

Marina helps her into the car, and she stumbles across the seat. Her hands are shaking too much to do the seatbelt, so Marina helps her with that too, clicking it in place with barely any problem. Meanwhile, Three and Eight climb in behind them, tossing the bags over the seat with loud thuds that make Pearl’s brain upset. Once all their seatbelts are on, Pearl’s father turns the car on and they set off, the electric engine whirring quietly.

Marina slings her arm over Pearl’s shoulder and pulls her into her chest, protective. Pearl makes herself comfortable and breathes out slowly, thinking hey, maybe her father really is just trying to be nice and is just giving them a ride back. It’s nice to avoid the train, especially because the loud clack of the track would just make her headache angrier and the motion of it would probably make her vomit.

“So, did you have fun at the mall?” he asks as they merge onto the main thoroughfare. It’s such a normal phrase, like he’s just a father picking them up after a long day of shopping, but there’s an undercurrent of threat to his voice.

Pearl nearly curses.

“It was a blast, Mr. Houzuki!” Three calls, like the cheeky shit she is. “I really like how you renovated it! Those concrete floors? _Great_ for skating! Ow, Eight! Stop smacking me!”

“I have never been to a mall in my life,” Eight says, flat, lie clear in her voice. “We were taking a walk around the neighborhood.”

Pearl’s father sighs. “You girls are lucky that I’m feeling lenient. I know that Pearl let you in, so I’m not going to press charges, but—”

Pearl groans. She’s _so_ uncomfortable in her own head and his tone is grating on her something fierce, making it worse. Plus, _no one_ is allowed to threaten her friends, _especially_ her father, _double_ especially in front of her like this, _triple_ especially when she has a concussion and her logical brain is caught up in writhes of pain and all she has left is her aggressive, protective instincts.

“What _ever_ Dad,” Pearl grumbles at him. Next to her, she sees Marina smile and raise a hand to stifle a laugh. That only spurs her on further. “You’re soooo full of shit. You won’t do jackshit. Quit trying to scare them and take us to Three’s.”

“ _Hime_ ,” he gasps, as if she just broke the most expensive vase in the house. “Watch your mouth! This isn’t a joke. If there was _any_ property damage—”

“There wasn’t,” she returns, rolling her eyes so hard it makes her head twinge again. “Besides, that’ll be _my_ mall one day. Just call it an advance on my inheritance.”

“That’s not—” He breaks off and Pearl knows for a fact that he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. “Pearl, are you _drunk_? You’re slurring your words.”

“No!” Pearl cries, and then winces because yelling was a bad idea. “Yes? What’s worse? A concussion or being drunk?”

The car swerves a little as he yanks on the wheel. “You have a _concussion_?”

“Pearl!” Three and Eight yell, astonished that she just gave it up like that.

“Ah okay,” Pearl mutters to herself. “Shoulda gone with drunk. Got it.”

“What _happened_?” he demands, glancing back every few seconds.

“Keep your eyes on the road, Pops,” Pearl grumbles. “I ran into a wall. Wasn’t watching where I was going.”

He makes a sound like he doesn’t believe it, but he must be listening a little because he stops swerving all over the place. “You’re coming home with me. You need to see Dr. Garra.”

“What?” Pearl tries to sit up, but Marina holds her in place with her strong arm. “No!”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Three says, the traitor, and Eight lets out a small, affirmative noise of agreement.

“ _No_ ,” Pearl says again. “I _left_ , remember?”

“Yeah, and then you ran into a _wall!_ ” her father says. “At least your friends have a little sense. I don’t know why they went along with your scheme in the first place but—”

“Marina!” Pearl turns to her, her savior, the last one, the one who will always be on her side. She can count on Marina. “Back me up here! It’s a bad idea to go back home, right?”

Marina sends her a grimace. “You should be seen by a doctor. Don’t worry, I’ll stay with you until you’re better.”

Pearl deflates. Betrayed by everyone, even the one who she was counting on. “So, I’m your hostage, huh? You’re all gonna force me to go home.”

“It’s for your own good, Pearl,” her father says. “If it makes you feel better, if you come home, we’ll forget tonight happened.”

Pearl scowls. He really is full of shit. He won’t do anything because it’ll tarnish the family name if this got out, and Pearl would kick up such a huge fuss in the public eye if he went after her friends, so, really, she’s in charge of this whole situation. He’s trying to be threatening, but he knows that Pearl knows that he can’t really do anything, not now when she’s on this finding-herself mission.

But he has her friends on his side, so she’s kind of stuck. She can’t really fight with all of them, especially Marina because she’s looking down at Pearl with these big, sad, guilty eyes, practically begging Pearl to let herself be taken care of. Pearl knows she’s lost as soon as she sees her looking at her, and she sighs.

“Fine, but only for a few nights.”

+++

They drop Three and Eight at Three’s apartment. Three hugs her from behind before climbing out of the car, and whispers, “Don’t let him get to you,” which Marina hears. She glances back at Eight and says something in what Pearl realizes is Octarian, something short and full of vowels. Eight nods at her and grabs Three by the elbow to drag her out of the car.

“I’ll follow you to your house on my motorcycle. I can’t leave it here,” Marina says, and leans down to press a small kiss to the top of Pearl’s head. In the rearview, she sees her father’s eyes, watching them closely. Marina glances up, follows Pearl’s gaze, and scowls at him.

“I’ll ride with you,” Pearl says quickly, searching for her seatbelt.

“ _No_ ,” both Marina and her father say, voices blending into a thunderous boom that makes Pearl woozy. She puts a hand to her head and scowls.

“I’ll wear a _helmet_ ,” she says, as if that wasn’t obvious.

“No,” Marina repeats, and slides out of the car. “What if you fall asleep? Concussions make you woozy and sleepy. You need to ride in the car.”

“Listen to your girlfriend,” Pearl’s father says. He’s looking back at them with an unreadable expression.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Pearl says at the same that Marina says,

“Not her girlfriend.” Their voices blend together, and it makes her father laugh.

“If you say so. C’mon, girls. Let’s get moving. Marina, do you know how to get there?”

Marina closes the door as carefully as she can, in respect to Pearl’s head, but Pearl can hear her response through the open driver’s side window: “I’ll follow you. Don’t worry about losing me. I’ll keep up.”

He sighs in response to her hard tone. “Marina, I meant what I said at the rink the other day. I am sorry for what I said to you. You’re a good influence on Pearl. I can see that you care for each other very deeply.”

Marina’s scowl deepens. It looks foreign on her usually happy face, her curved eyebrows pulled down into angry U’s. “You don’t need to apologize to _me_.” She turns on her heel and stomps away. Just beyond the window, Pearl sees her dig her helmet out, jam it onto her head, throw her leg over the bike, and rev it to life.

“I’ve never seen her so pissed,” Pearl mutters, just for her father’s benefit. He looks at her in the rearview and Pearl can see that his mouth is pulled into a small, upset line.

They drive carefully, Marina sticking close, riding their draft, and, for the most part, don’t talk. Either Marina really intimidated her father, or he’s taking it easy on her, but either way she’s thankful. She doesn’t know if she could handle more arguing.

Instead, as they leave the city and sail out into the familiar trees of the suburbs, he turns the radio on low and clears his throat. “She’s not your girlfriend?”

Pearl sighs. “Not yet.”

“You seem close.”

“We are.”

His eyes are staring through her in the mirror. “What’s this about? Usually, you’d be all over her by now.”

Pearl groans and covers her eyes with her hand. “You know it’s weird to ask me stuff like that, right? You’re my _dad_. Not my friend.”

He doesn’t say anything for a few minutes, just stares out at the road with single-minded focus. Pearl can tell that he’s thinking, that he’s crunching that between his brain cells, and she takes the silence as a blessing. She’s running on fumes at this point and she knows that as soon as she lands in her room, she’s going to knock out.

“That’s hard for me,” he says after a time. “We had you so young. I was only twenty-nine—only a few years older than you now. When your mom left, I always figured it’d be you and me against the world, especially after my father died so early. We’re the last of the Houzuki family. I tried, Pearl, believe me. I wanted to let you free, but you’re the only one left after me. You _have_ to take care of the family after I’m gone.”

He sighs and glances back at her. She’s staring out the window, trying not to seem like she’s not listening, but she is, and she knows that he knows it. “When you were tiny, I knew you wouldn’t want this. I could tell from how you couldn’t sit still. You were always running around the grounds. Then, you chose _sneakers_...” He trails off and shakes his head. “I wanted it to be us, Pearl. I wanted us to be close. I tried. But you couldn’t be what I needed you to be, so I became the authority figure. I never wanted to be that dad. And... Somewhere along the way, I forgot all that.

“I pushed you too hard. I refused to listen to you. I don’t think I’ve actually _listened_ to you in years. And I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how much you were suffering until Marina stood up for you and then you stood up for her. I haven’t seen you that fired up about _anything_ and that— You have spirit, kid. I can’t believe how much I’ve been stifling you.”

Pearl sighs and closes her eyes. Her head feels like there’s a tiny sea slug banging cymbals right against her brain, squishing it and stretching it with each heartbeat. But even she can tell that that apology, while nice, won’t fix any of their problems. “Dad, no offense, but I can’t talk about this right now. I feel like I’m about to throw up.”

“That’s okay. I told you I’d give you two weeks and I meant it. I just wanted to say that while I could. I...”

Pearl leans her head against the glass. It’s cool and that relaxes her. “I hear you. I might not remember this in the morning, but I hear you. Will you shut up now?”

He chuckles. “You got it, princess. Just... Marina’s a good person. I can tell.”

Pearl closes her eyes. “I know.”

+++

At the estate, Marina parks her motorcycle in the garage under the house, next to the cars, and opens Pearl’s door before she can manage to get her seatbelt off. She helps Pearl from the car and reaches for the bags.

“I’ll get those,” Pearl’s father says. “You get her to her room. Take the elevator up to the second floor.”

Marina doesn’t need to be told twice. She picks Pearl up again, cradles her against her chest, and Pearl doesn’t have it in her to argue. Instead, she leans into Marina’s body, searching for her warmth, and Marina walks slowly, purposefully, to the elevator that Pearl points out with a sleepy finger.

They ride up in silence, and then Pearl guides her to her bedroom with that same finger. She can’t talk anymore, can’t fathom words after that conversation with her father, and Marina seems to sense that. She holds Pearl close and, in the elevator, bends her head down and presses their foreheads together, a small form of comfort that Pearl _really_ appreciates.

When they eventually, _finally_ , step into her room, Pearl is seconds from sleep. She physically can’t keep her eyes open, but, when Marina deposits her carefully on top of the blankets and moves away to give her space, Pearl’s hand snakes out and grabs her wrist.

“ _Nooo_ ,” she whines, searching, needing that warmth, especially now, back in this room, the room she’s been unable to sleep in for the past few weeks. “Stay. Please.”

Marina’s expression softens and she nods once. Pearl really appreciates her attempts to stay quiet because she doesn’t know if she could handle any more noise. Marina toes out of her shoes and then tugs Pearl’s off, setting them softly next to one another by the bed. Then, she climbs up next to Pearl and slides her legs around Pearl’s body, leaning back against the headboard. Pearl happily lets her body fall back, feels it make contact with Marina’s chest, feels the back of her head land on Marina’s shoulder, and then she doesn’t feel anything else for a long time.

+++

Pearl wakes slowly, like she’s dragging herself out of a deep bath of warm water, and the world beyond her eyelids is hazy and hushed, colors muted, the only light from the lowering sun through her gauzy curtains and the small lamp on the nightstand. For a second, Pearl isn’t sure where she is or what year it is, but that doesn’t worry her because she’s warm and comfortable, even if her mattress feels a bit lumpy.

She yawns like a tiny child, jaw widening into a small O, and stretches her legs out, stretches out the kinks in her muscles and tendons and feels her whole body relax impossibly further.

“Good morning,” a low, melodic voice says, from right behind her, and for a second she can’t place it. She looks down to see a long pair of arms wrapped around her middle, a book resting on the duvet next to her hip—a manga, one that Pearl hasn’t read in a long time—and recognizes the shape of four legs under the covers. “Or, I guess, good evening.”

Pearl cranes her head back and blinks up, sees the most beautiful face she’s ever seen, and smiles. It’s a dreamy, big smile, she’s sure of it, and it excites a blush, which just makes that beautiful face even more beautiful.

“You slept well, I see,” she says, and Pearl’s smile widens further. She’s got to be dreaming, because there’s no way she’d be so lucky as to wake up wrapped in the arms of such a breathtaking woman. “Pearl, are you okay? Why are you looking at me like that? Does your head hurt?”

Something about her tone wakes Pearl’s memory and the last twenty-four hours come back, sluggish, like the memories are dragging their feet through thick tar. She remembers skating through the mall, slamming into the wall, being carried by Marina— Wait...

“Marina?” she asks, and places a stabilizing hand on the side of her head. Ah, there it is, the ache, hidden just under the warm fuzziness of a perfect, deep sleep. “What time is it?”

Marina leans carefully to reach her phone where it’s plugged in on the nightstand. “Half after seven. You’ve been asleep for over twelve hours.”

“Twelve... Marina, have you been here that whole time?”

Marina wraps her arms around Pearl’s middle again and carefully places her chin on top of her head. “I slept too. I was up all night with you, remember? I woke up a couple hours ago. That’s what the book was for.”

Pearl feels herself warm further at the thought. Twelve hours... She spent the last twelve hours asleep, wrapped up in Marina’s arms, cradled by her body. “I... Thank you for staying.”

Marina chuckles and Pearl feels it vibrate through her whole body. If she wasn’t so sleepy or in pain, she’s sure that that laugh would have made her insides squirm with heat, but right now it’s just relaxing, to be this close, to feel this safe. “You asked me to. I couldn’t just _leave_.”

“I did?”

“Yeah, you don’t remember? Ah, well, that’s not surprising. You were out of it by the time we got here.”

Pearl looks down at Marina’s arms. They’re resting on top of the blankets like a safety belt, and Pearl places her hands on them. “Well, thanks anyway. You let me sleep on top of you for like... half a day.”

Marina pulls back so that she can press her face into the back of Pearl’s head, and her response is so muffled that Pearl almost doesn’t hear it: “Ah... I liked it. It was nice.”

That makes Pearl laugh, but she makes sure to keep it quiet, both to shield her head from the ache that’s waiting for an excuse to flare again and to protect the serenity of this small moment, of this snuggle and the closeness that seems so natural. “Are we sure we’re not dating?” she whispers, and tightens her grip on Marina’s arms.

It's Marina’s turn to laugh, right into Pearl’s hair, with that beautiful, rich chuckle that she’s so good at. “That’s on you.”

“I want to.”

“I do too.”

“Then why don’t we?”

Marina finally frees her face and looks down at Pearl with a worried expression. “You have a concussion. We shouldn’t talk about this now.”

She has a point, some small part of Pearl whispers, but the rest of her is warm, and content, and so happy that it doesn’t listen. “Why not? I like you and you like me. We’re _cuddling_... We’ve been kissing like... Marina, I don’t know about you, but I don’t kiss just anyone like that. You’re _special_ and I want... I want you.”

“Pearl...” Marina sighs. “We’re in your room right now, in the house that you ran away from like two days ago because you couldn’t stand your life anymore. Is this really the time to talk about this? You have a concussion because I panicked and threw you into a _wall_... Can we get past this first, please?”

Pearl pivots enough so that she can see Marina’s face fully. She’s visibly pleading, seriously worried, and it strikes Pearl immediately that she’s letting her impatience get the best of her. The truth is that she hasn’t been in close proximity with someone in such a soft way in a _long_ time, especially someone that she likes so much. She _really_ likes Marina, and it’s deep, almost endless, she’s realizing, precious and new, so she’s anxious to make something of it. But Marina has a point—they need to get over all these speed bumps first.

They’ll be stronger on the other side, and then they can do this properly.

“You’re right.” Pearl grabs Marina’s hand and blazes a kiss across her palm. “I’m sorry. I just... I like you _so much_. I don’t think I’ve ever liked someone this much.”

Marina, face tinted a bright teal from the kiss, cups Pearl’s face with that same hand. “I know. I’m... I’m the same. I... Sometimes, it _hurts_ , how much I like you. Does that make sense?”

It does. It so does. There’s a part of Pearl that’s _dying_ because of how much she likes Marina, how much she wants to be around her, how much she wants to curl up in her arms, how much she _wants_ and _wants_ and _wants_. It’s like there’s too much emotion for her body, so it presses and presses, fills her up to the top, and she can’t do anything with it. Pearl lets out a small sound, a _gah_ , and says, “Yeah... Yeah, it makes sense. I get you _completely_. We both... We got it _bad_.”

That puts a smile on Marina’s face. “That’s enough for me. I’m not going anywhere. It might not be official, but I’ll— I’m here.”

Pearl lets out a small, joyous laugh. “I— Yeah... Me too. Exactly.” She can’t say anything else, because Marina just said it all. They’re in this _together_ , but they can’t call it dating, can’t tether themselves to that word, to those titles, not until this whole mess is cleaned up. Pearl owes it to Marina to do that for her, to bring her into her life fully once things are clear and she’s free to be herself.

Until then, they’ll have this and last night and every moment between now and when Pearl figures it out. It... It brings her so much relief to know that they’re on the same page, and they’re both dedicated to making this work; that if she could, Marina would say yes right this moment and they would forge into that big, wide future together.

Pearl pushes the covers back, turns, and clambers carefully up to her knees, aware of her head and the hair trigger that the concussion is on. She faces Marina head on and places her hands on her shoulders. “Reena, you should kiss me.”

That makes Marina sputter, as if that was the last thing she expected. “You’re— _Seriously_? Now?”

“Hell yes, right now!” Pearl says, a little too loudly. She feels a spike in the back of her head. “We just like... _Declared_ ourselves or something. Besides, you owe me. I won the race!”

Marina closes her eyes and shakes her head, exasperated. “You’re so... That concussion is making you just...”

“I’m always like this, baby! Emotionally driven and hot-headed! I like you a lot and I wanna kiss you! Do you wanna kiss me?”

Marina grins and pushes a tentacle behind her rounded ear. “Always, but— _Mnph!_ ”

Pearl pushes forward, hands rising to grab Marina’s face, and she lays one on her right there, seals their lips together with so much strength that Marina has to push back or else fall against the headboard. Marina’s arms come up and loop loosely around Pearl’s body, and Pearl shifts just enough to get Marina’s lip between her teeth. She nips at the sensitive skin and Marina lets out a small, surprised noise, one of her hands grabbing Pearl’s shirt in a tight fist. Pearl grins into the kiss and that gives Marina an opportunity for revenge, which she takes with gusto, pressing her tongue in enough to tease Pearl into a small moan. She doesn’t follow through though, and pulls back, smiling this devilish little smile that makes Pearl feel like she’s on fire.

Her headache is gone, replaced instead with a keening yearning that consumes her whole body. “Okay,” she pants, “all’s fair, but you still owe me. Technically, _I_ just kissed _you_ , so now you’re down _two_ —”

“Pearl, _shut up_.” Marina tightens her arms and drags her down again. They skip all the teasing this time, and head right for the deep make out, the first one Pearl’s had in _years_ , and she practically ascends.

Marina ends up on her back, Pearl lying on top of her, and their hands wind up fisted around each other’s clothing, not quit tugging, but for support, a necessary tether as their tongues find sensitive spots in each other’s mouths. The pain in Pearl’s head is completely gone, replaced with nothing. Suddenly, her mind is a giant void, and that suits her just fine because she has other things to worry about—specifically, Marina and the way she laughs when Pearl leaves a small line of kisses from the corner of her mouth to her throat, or the way Marina’s hands have the tendency to find the most ticklish spot along her side.

Ever since she met Marina, Pearl’s life has been a non-stop, uncontrollable flight through turbulence. Nothing’s been the same, and the last couple weeks have been hell, but she’d go through it over and over again if it meant getting right back here. Things might be blowing up in her face, but at least she has this—this girl and these feelings and this promise for the future. As long as she has Marina, laughing under her, looking up at her with those bright eyes, lips swollen from kissing, she’s happy. Marina, the first person to see through all of Pearl’s acts, to see past all the faces, to see _her_ , to challenge her to figure it all out...

Pearl’s probably in love. Usually, that thought would terrify her, but, just now, as she takes a breather and her head lands on Marina’s chest, it feels inevitable, and that inevitability comforts her. She’s in love. She’s in love and it’s with the most incredible person she’s ever met.

“Pearl...” Marina says, and Pearl looks up, sees her beaming at her. She looks mussed, well-kissed. “You... I...”

Pearl can sense what she can’t say, because it’s almost exactly what she just realized. They’re not ready to say it yet, to release it to the world, but Pearl knows what she means.

“Yeah,” she says, and smiles right back. “You... I...”

Marina relaxes and lets her head fall back. Her neck is long and strong. “We’re a mess,” she sighs.

That makes Pearl laugh, loud and long, and she crawls up so that she can nudge her nose into Marina’s. “Nah, that’s just me.”

“No, I—”

There’s a knock, loud, from a big fist, most definitely Pearl’s father, and Marina stiffens under her. Her hands rise, as if she wants to push Pearl off, but Pearl is faster.

“Go away!” she cries, trying to make her voice sound normal. “Busy!”

There’s a low chuckle from the other side, so maybe her voice was as breathless as she felt. “Dr. Garra will be here in thirty minutes. Try to be presentable.” He turns and walks away.

They wait until the sound of his footsteps are gone before they burst into laughter. “Where were we?” Pearl asks.

“Being a mess.” Marina grabs Pearl’s chin between her fingers. “Making out like this without even getting together.”

Pearl pulls away a little, alarmed. “Does it bother you?”

Marina’s expression is unreadable. “Does it bother _you_?”

“I asked first.”

Marina pauses for a long time, so long that Pearl begins to worry. “No,” she seems to decide. “I know where we stand.”

“Good, because it doesn’t bother me either.”

“Good.” Marina’s fingers tighten a little and she tugs Pearl down again. “I think I still owe you.”

Pearl smiles and allows herself to pulled in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SHE SLEEPS! 
> 
> Officially hit 50k! We're in novel town now. 
> 
> A lot of resolutions this chapter, but that doesn't mean things aren't still complicated. Unfortunately, when one thing resolves, another problem rears its head, so we'll see what happens next. 
> 
> I say this every time, but BIG thanks to everyone who left me comments and kudos. :') This is a long chapter and reading those comments back in the middle of writing it really kept me going.
> 
> Chapter title from [here!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hjdFBRBOLq4)
> 
> Check me out on Twitter if that's your neck of the woods: [@theashemarie](https://twitter.com/theashemarie)!
> 
> Comments and kudos are cherished! <3


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